The Lost Year
by LostPipersChild
Summary: Arthur's story ended before it had really begun. The fire in the library claimed his life and the Lesser Key was rendered useless. The Will strives to find a new Heir quickly and the Morrow Days realise they can not afford to be complaisant twice. This time, they take matters into their own hands. Might change it to M later depending on how the story unravels.
1. Chapter 1

The Will

The barriers were breaking down, the first part of the Will could feel it. Monday, the fool, had not bothered to visit its prison in some millennia. Or perhaps he had simply forgotten. In any case the spells keeping the Will trapped were deteriorating without the regular attention of the First Key. And, with a little outside help, the Will escaped.

But it was thwarted in its quest to bring its chosen Heir to the House. After months of careful planning, the child, Arthur, had failed. Monday had sent his Noon to retrieve the Lesser Key from the boy but in a cruel twist of fate he had been killed in the fire Noon caused. Now the Lesser Key was rendered useless since its true master was dead and it could no longer be given.

The Will decided to step back for a moment and consider its position. Its mind was set firstly on revenge, and secondly on fulfilling its purpose. The Trustees would be punished before the final destruction. Having their precious Keys taken away from them by a lowly mortal. Unwilling to trust Monday's Dusk a second time and not wishing to remain in the Lower House where Mister Monday had his people looking for it, the Will made the perilous journey to the Upper House.

It was raining when it arrived there (of course it was raining, it was always raining). At first it considered trying to free the sixth part of itself but decided it was futile, only an Heir could do such a thing. The Upper House was dominated by Saturday's mighty Tower, reaching imperiously for the clouds, looming over all her subjects. Scattered around the Tower were piles of scrap metal and slag heaps. Piper's Children played in this machine graveyard, distinguishable by their bright yellow mackintoshes.

Saturday suspected the Will might come to her domain so security had been tightened tenfold in all the record keeping houses. Not that they were exactly bustling with activity these days anyway. Saturday had pulled all most of the regular sorcerers away from their proper posts to dwell in her Tower, utilising their magic to penetrate the Gardens. Those who were left were not difficult to fool. The Will ambushed one of them on her way to work one miserable morning.

It attacked her mind fiercely, carving out a place for itself in her skull. The denizen, whatever her name was, died that day. The Will assumed her identity and in this capacity gained entry to the offices. She sat at her new body's desk and glanced surreptitiously around. Her co-workers were busy staring into mirrors observing the Realms, or scratching out their findings on bits of parchment. Every few moments there was a soft sucking _thwump_ as someone sent a completed document up a tube into the inter-house messaging system.

The complicated mass of tubes would send the documents to the Middle House where they were sorted and bound into books, before being sent back to the Upper House for storing. Ideally, the Will would have modelled itself (herself, now) as a Runner. This was someone who processed the newly complied records coming from the Middle House. It was easy to steal a record during that part of the process without it being discovered.

But time was short, Saturday's Internal Auditors were sure to pick up her trail sooner rather than later. She began to compile a short list of mortals it deemed suitable for the position of Heir. She needed someone ambitious, who would drive things forward. But she also needed them to be easily manipulated so they wouldn't stray from the proper course. There were no end of good candidates and the Will was fairly confident she had selected wisely.

However her presence had finally been noted. The other record keepers were looking at her curiously. She got up, gathering her precious Heirs, and made for the door. The denizen working at the desk beside her stood up and asked,

"Where are you going with those Lilleth?"

The Will struck. The denizen was dead before he hit the floor. His fellows all leapt to their feet with cries of shock and fear. Flash. Flash. Flash. One by one they fell dead at her feet until there was no one left in the office but the Will. Their shouts were sure to have alerted other denizens in the building so the Will hurried from the murder scene.

She was almost at the exit when a host of Artful Loungers surged into the corridor. At their head was Saturday's Noon, his umbrella raised threateningly. The Will hissed and avoided his spell.

"Seize it!" Noon shrieked. "Don't let it make off with those documents!"

Trapped, the Will transformed itself into sinuous black smoke so it could escape through a ventilation shaft in the ceiling. In order to do this she had to drop the records. Ah well, next time.

But it looked like there wouldn't be a next time. Saturday's sorcery was closing in on the Will, she must have been using the sixth Key to locate her. She had to leave now if she wished to remain free. She was at the elevator bank to take her to the Lower House when she saw it, a big pile of discarded records. She had just enough time to grab one at random and bolt into an elevator. She now had a new destination, the Front Door. And beyond that? Wherever the document took her.


	2. Chapter 2

The Will

Name = Clara Mary Jenkins

Date of Birth = 03/04/94

World of Origin = Earth

Current Location = Earth, UK, London

The Will glanced at the dossier again to check that she was not mistaken. The address was correct, 28 Smithton Road. She stood before the tiny terrace house in a miserable December drizzle, much like the one which plagued the Upper House. There was no mistaking that this was the place, and the Will had to admit herself disappointed. The house, as well as those on either side of it, was run down, with paint peeling off the window panes and water dripping forlornly from the broken drain pipe.

This, Clara Jenkins, was a student according to the dossier, studying some obscure branch of history. Why were humans so obsessed with their own past? She seemed fairly young and healthy, but lacked any skills the Will could see. All in all, not the sort of person she had envisioned spearheading the campaign against the Trustees. But beggars can't be choosers and all that. Unfortunately the picture which was supposed to be included had fallen out during the record's short life.

The door of the flat suddenly opened and a human emerged. It was female, fairly average height and wrapped in thick winter clothes. The Will squinted, she fitted the description in the record. Blue eyes, pale skin, mousy brown hair. But her face was plain. Nothing to mark her out in a crowd. No, this couldn't possibly be-

"Hang on Clara!" called a second, dark skinned girl who came running after her out of the flat. The Will's heart sank as the first girl paused and waited for the second.

"Morning Helen." she yawned. "Meg not coming?"

"When I knocked on her door she told me to fuck off so no, don't think so." Helen said lightly and Clara snorted.

The Will watched hopelessly as the two walked past her and set off down the road together. This already looked like a disaster! The girl didn't look like she could attack a nursery! Let alone a domain. There was however, no choice in the matter. The Will didn't have time to choose a better Heir, which would be impossible now anyway.

After shadowing Clara Jenkins for a few days the Will decided that she was exactly what she appeared to be. A plain, ordinary, rather dull girl without a hint of ambition. She spent most of her time wondering around campus going from one lecture to the next, or else whiling away the hours in the library, pretending to work.

She also haunted a small café located on the corner of a large square and it was here that the Will first approached her. After commandeering the body of a woman off the street outside, she entered the crowded room and spotted Clara sitting by the window. The human had a mug of coffee in front of her and was currently engrossed in a book. After concluding it would be suspicious not to, the Will bought tea with the change she found in her new body's purse before stepping over the Clara.

"Good afternoon." she said in a carefully measured tone. Clara glanced up, looking alarmed.

"Hello." she said uncertainly. The Will gestured to the seat opposite her.

"May I join you?" she asked and the girl glanced around. The café was full, there were no spare tables, and therefore this request was not quite as strange as it might have been.

"Ok." she shrugged before dropping her eyes back to the page. The Will sat gracefully and took a sip of her tea, stifling a grimace once she'd tasted it.

"What are you reading?" she asked and Clara looked at her over the top of her book. It could not have been plainer that the interruption was deeply unwelcome.

"Pride and Prejudice." she answered politely, yet shortly. She was clearly in no mood to converse with a total stranger.

"Ah, and are you enjoying it?" the Will pressed, un-phased.

"Yes, Lydia's just run of with Mr Wickham. I've read it like a million times." Clara said grudgingly. The Will tried not to let her loathing of exaggeration show on her face and smiled instead.

"That is an excellent part. I'm a writer you know."

This was not simply inane small talk, the Will had thought long and hard about how to explain the House to the human. Presenting it as a truth might not be the best course, as Clara would be unlikely to listen, much less believe. But Clara liked books, it was down in her file, so if the Will was clever about how she explained the bare facts to her…

"Really? Me too, well, sort of, unpublished you know?" Clara said. Her eyes had lit up with interest and she even allowed her book to flop closed. The Will held out her hand across the table to her.

"Lilith Pullman, journalist, but I write fiction in my spare time."

"I'm Clara." the human replied, taking the Will's hand. The Will was suddenly glad to be wearing leather gloves, the thought of having to touch the human was unpleasant.

"What do you do Clara?" she asked with an attempt at a kind tone.

"I'm a student." Clara replied, a look of suspicion returning to her face.

The Will had not been on Earth for many years and so she did not know how mannerisms and social protocol had changed. But from the looks of things, striking up a conversation with a stranger on a Monday afternoon was not considered 'normal'. Perhaps this was enough for today, she didn't want to scare the child by overwhelming her with information. Deliberately setting off the irritating buzzing object in her hand bag allowed her to excuse herself and then take her leave.


	3. Chapter 3

"So are you coming to book club tonight?" Helen asked as she sat down at the kitchen table, spooning sugar into her coffee. Clara glanced up from her course work. She was curled in the threadbare arm chair closest to the radiator struggling with an essay due in two days.

"Maybe." she said evasively, turning her attention back to her text book. Helena sighed.

"Oh come on! That's the third time you'll have missed it! Tonight's that meet and greet thing, you know with all the local writers? I thought you of all people would like that."

"Helen, my books are no good, I've decided just to concentrate on getting through uni."

"You make it sound like a trial." Helen said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, one night off won't kill you."

Clara frowned but was unable to think of a good argument. The truth was she was too lazy to get involved in societies, not like her flat mates who all seemed to have some tournament or other to go to every night. However Helen was correct in assuming Clara was curious about the authors evening. So at seven o clock the two girls wrapped up warm in their thick coats and scarfs before catching a bus to the campus. They hurried into the students' guild shivering from the chill.

They were a little late and their fellow book club members were already milling around the hall they used for meetings. Refreshments had been set out on a table in the corner and the girls made their way over to it, thinking to get a drink before talking to anyone. Halfway there however, Clara spotted a figure in black standing next to the table.

"Oh shit, quick! Turn around, pretend you're talking to me!" she hissed, grabbing Helens arm and yanking her back.

"What? Why?" Helen asked curiously.

"It's that crazy lady I met in the café yesterday! Come on let's just try and avoid -"

"Clara darling!"

"_Fuck_." Clara breathed, closing her eyes briefly before fixing her face into a mild smile and turning to face the woman who was walking purposefully towards them. "Hello, uh…"

"Pullman, Lilith Pullman. Fancy running into you again." the woman supplied helpfully. Clara nodded weakly and struggled to think of something to say.

"Right, uh, this is my friend Helen." Clara said, dragging Helen forward to share in Lilith's unnerving gaze.

She held herself in a strange, stiff sort of way, like she was uncomfortable in her skin. Or maybe it was just the crisp black suit dress she was sporting. Lilith's eyes slid disinterestedly over Helen and settled back on Clara.

"A pleasure." she said carelessly. "Now Clara, I remember you saying yesterday that you too were a writer."

"Unpublished." Clara repeated wearily. She didn't like having to explain this to strangers, it always made her cheeks warm up. Helen nudged her.

"Only cause those publishers are snobs who don't take anyone without an agent. She's actually really good!"

"I'm alright." Clara conceded modestly. Lilith smiled a somewhat artificial smile. She showed too many teeth for it to be genuine.

"Well this is excellent, you're just what I've been looking for." she said and Clara raised her eyebrows.

"Uh, I am?"

"Indeed. I have an idea for a book I want to write, but I need a second opinion from a young person such as yourself. That's why I came here tonight, looking for fresh talent."

"Oh, right, what's the idea?"

"It's all in here." Lilith said briskly, and she snapped open her briefcase and started rooting around inside. "Now where is it? Ah! Here."

She produced a brown cardboard folder containing several sheets of paper. She handed it to a bemused Clara.

"Tell you what, how about you have a read and tell me what you think at the next meeting? I'd very much appreciate it. Oh is that the time? I really must dash, good evening girls."

And with that she bustled off towards the exit, leaving both Helen and Clara standing there in utter bewilderment.

"Ok, let me be the first to say," Helen said after a stunned pause, "_Freak_!"

"Yes." Clara nodded in agreement. "_Total_ psycho."

"Well." Helen said, lowering the piece of paper she held so she could look across the living room at Clara. "I think it's safe to say she's clearly deranged."

"I know!" Clara said, riffling through the paper and shaking her head hopelessly. "This stuff is insane! I mean, ok the concept is quite cool, the whole Morrow Days thing, but the writing! It's like she's from the dark ages or something!"

"I haven't seen language this complicated since we had to do Chaucer at A Level!" Helen complained, flinging the papers in the air and watching them float to the ground.

Some fell behind the sofa, others landed on the chipped coffee table. Clara yawned hugely and set her share of the papers to one side. It was well past midnight and she had a lecture at nine the following morning.

"Night." she mumbled and Helen wiggled her fingers, frowning at a particularly strange word on the only page she still held.

"Dame Primus." she muttered under her breath. "Mister Monday, _Superior_ Saturday, it's like a psychiatrics dream!"

Clara snorted as she mounted the creaking stairs. Everything about their flat was a bit on the crap side. Every wall had a patch of damp, ever carpet a hole on which one could trip. The rent was good but they had to put up with a lot to live here. Clara did not think about Lilith Pullman and her strange book much over course of the week.

Her waking hours were too full of day to day problems like work, money and friends, but sometimes before going to bed she would glance at the dossier again and muse over some of the finer points. She found she quite liked the story of the heroic Heir battling evil and corrupt rulers of the universe. But it was far too complicated to understand at the first reading, so she found herself going over it several times.

When Tuesday came around again she hunted all through the house looking for all the loose bits of paper which had somehow been scattered in almost every room. When she finally found the last page hiding under her bed it was almost time to go.

"Oh come on Helen_ please_!" she whined, swinging on the somewhat unstable handle of the bathroom door. "Please don't make me go by myself!"

"Sorry CJ." Helen said through puckered lips as she applied gloss and pouted at the mirror. "Alex and me have a big date tonight."

"But I don't want to face crazy lady alone!" Clara moaned, waving the dossier at her best friend.

"Drag Meg or someone along instead" Helen suggested, now dabbing foundation on her already flawless skin. Clara scowled darkly.

"I can't, she's out with her girlfriend tonight!"

"Freya?"

"Gone home to see James. Damn relationships always getting in the way!"

"Poo CJ, don't worry, you've still got crazy lady."

"Oh goody, what a hot date that'll be." Clara snarled.

So she had to trek into town without back up that evening. Lilith was already at the meeting when Clara showed up and she converged on her before she'd even taken off her bobble hat.

"So? What did you think?" Lilith asked eagerly. Clara took an instinctive step back and wondered vaguely if she would ever be shot of this wacko.

"It's, cool." she said lamely. "Uh, we liked the bad guys especially, they're awesome."

Far from looking pleased at the praise, a shadow passed over Lilith's face. She smoothed it away quickly though and smiled her plastic smile.

"I see, how interesting. How about the Heir and the Will? Do they make good protagonists?"

"Oh yeah, have you decided what the Heir is going to be like?"

"I'm toying with a few ideas." said Lilith mysteriously. Clara held out the dossier for her but she raised her hand and shook her head.

"Oh no dear, you keep it. I might want your opinion again someday when I decide to write it."

Clara had a hard time keeping her eyes from widening in despair and spent the rest of the evening desperately avoiding Lilith. Total and utter stalker alert! When it was time to leave Lilith cornered her at the exit.

"Would you like me to walk you to your cab?" she asked, an intense and seriously creepy look in her eyes.

"No! No I'm fine thanks, don't let me keep you." said Clara, wrestling her coat and escaping as fast as she could. Lilith followed her out into the street and walked with her towards the bus stop.

"I'm ok really, I don't want to make you late for anything." Clara insisted firmly.

"I'm going this way anyway." Lilith replied.

Clara gritted her teeth and prayed for patience. They walked in silence along the pavement. A few drunken revellers were already tottering past them even though it was barely nine. They reached a quiet corner where a flickering street lamp cast a sickly orange glow down on them. It was here that Clara first heard the growl. It made her pause and glance around in alarm.

"What's that?" she asked nervously. Lilith had frozen too and was squinting down a dark alley way beside them.

"No, no surely not, not here!" she murmured to herself. Clara's gaze fixed on the spot too but she couldn't see a thing.

"What –" she began, but a moment later she cut herself off with a high pitched scream.

A creature, a monster, had just jumped out of the shadows towards them. Lilith grabbed Clara's arm tightly and dragged her out of harm's way, causing the thing to miss them by millimetres. It snarled and skidded out into the road. It looked like some grotesque cross ver between a tusked boar and a human. A man's face roared at them as it pawed the ground, readying itself for another attack. Lilith shoved Clara behind her.

"Don't scream! You'll aggravate it!" she warned.

The thing charged. Lilith raised her hand and pointed at the oncoming horror, uttering a strange, guttural word. Pain shot through Clara like a static shock and she clapped her hands over her ears in agony. The monster exploded on the spot. Chunks of charred flesh and fur spattered everywhere and Lilith pushed Clara down out of the way. There was silence for several seconds, punctuated only by Clara's ragged breathing. Finally she broke it by asking,

"What the hell was that?!"

"A Nithling." said Lilith grimly. "Sent to kill us."

"N-nithling?!" Clara repeated, getting shakily to her feet. "But, hang on, aren't Nithlings those thing in the – but they're not _real _surely!"

"Oh they are very real, and so is everything else I told you about the House." Lilith said. She turned to look at Clara whose eyes and mouth were wide open. When she didn't say anything Lilith went on.

"I am the first part of the Architect's Will, and you are the mortal I have chosen to be the Heir."

There were a few more seconds of stunned silence.

"Take your time." said Lilith, or 'the Will'. "I know this must be a bit of a shock."

Clara made a sound that was half way between a choke and a laugh. It was a hysterical noise. Then she turned and ran for it.

Ah, not quite the reaction the Will had been hoping for.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to Taywen for your review **** I'm off for Christmas now so updates should be regular for a while.**

Clara was lost, she didn't know this part of Manchester at all. She hurtled down one unfamiliar street after another, skidding several times as she took the corners too fast. This couldn't be happening, it _couldn't_ be happening! It was completely _insane_. But then, what in God's name was a Nithling doing in the real world?! Because it had looked exactly how she would envisage a Nithling, all, snarling and teeth and horribleness. _Me and my stupid imagination_, she thought bitterly. Maybe her fantasies had finally progressed to full on hallucinations. She'd been a compulsive day dreamer her whole life, maybe something had finally snapped and she'd gone completely round the bend!

People shrieked with laughed as Clara whizzed past them, others tried to ask what was wrong. She ignored them all, only calling breathless apologies to those she clipped on her way past. She nearly collided with a taxi when she hurtled back out onto the main street again.

"Watch y'self luv!" the driver cried indignantly.

"Sorry!" she gasped. "S-smithton Road please!"

"Yeah sure, you alright luv?"

"Yes thanks, just, late for something." Clara panted, before scrambling into the back and slamming the door. As she fumbled with her seatbelt she twisted around to make sure she hadn't been followed. There was no sign of Lilith (or, 'the Will' as she claimed to be) but Clara wrung her hands in worry. What if she knew where Clara lived? She could come after her! Perhaps she ought to find somewhere else to stay, or get in touch with the police!

_And tell them what exactly_? she thought scathingly, _that the crazy stalker lady you met in a café is magic and you've just been attacked by a monster from a book?! Grow up Clara! _

.

.

.

.

After the human's unfortunate reaction the Will had to rethink its plans. She had expected it to be shocked, frightened even, but utterly terrified? The Will couldn't see how she could get Clara to overcome her fear and accept her position as the Heir. Perhaps if she dangled the promise of power and riches beyond Clara's wildest dreams…

However the first thing to do was establish contact again. Primus let the girl stew for a week, get used to the idea that the 'book' was real. She observed Clara from afar and saw that the girl continued to follow her old routine, all be it with a worried look permanently plastered on her face. She also spent a lot of time looking sharply over her shoulder with her eyes bulging as if she had heard something. Her friends kept asking her what was wrong and every time she came up with vague lies about sleep deprivation.

On the Sunday following the Nithling attack, Primus posted a letter through the child's front door. She stood across the street from the flat and watched as Clara came out holding the letter, peering at the address. She fumbled to open it with one hand whilst locking the door with the other. She was halfway down the street before she froze, staring at the message. Then she crumpled it up and stuffed it in her pocket. Oh dear, this was going to be harder than the Will thought. She had asked Clara to meet her on the main square in town. She had hoped the girl would be more comfortable meeting in a public place.

Now it looked like she'd have to corner her and force a meeting. She tailed Clara to a park some ten minutes down the road from the flat. Primus knew Clara's habits by now, and guessed she intended to cut through the park to get to the Tesco express on the other side. Hurrying ahead of her, Primus waited in the shade of a dilapidated band stand and then stepped out into the path.

"Don't run!" she said, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture. Clara flinched and took a step back, her eyes wide in fear. "Please, I only want to explain. Do not be alarmed."

Clara shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other and glanced around, playing with the strap on her backpack. Primus gestured to the path which curved around the pond.

"Come, walk with me."

Clara hesitated, then walked along beside the Will at a cautious distance of three feet. They skirted the edge of the lake, pausing to allow a group of school children to run past. It was bone chilling day but the winter sun was bright and reflected dazzlingly off the surface of the water. After an uncomfortable period of silence the Will spoke.

"I understand that you are still in shock after what happened last Tuesday. But rest assured you are not in any danger from me."

"Am I mad?" Clara asked abruptly. "Have I lost my mind?"

"No, you are perfectly healthy and sane."

"But the House can't _possibly_ exist! Not_ really_, it's too – too unlikely! Magic isn't real!"

"Why do you doubt your own eyes?" the Will asked sharply. She was beginning to lose patience with this whining infant. "You saw the Nithling, you saw me destroy it, using magic."

"Why did you pretend it was a book idea?"

"I needed to acquaint you with the details of the House and its current…management issues. It seemed the easiest way to do it."

"But _why_?! Even if the House is real, even if you are the Architect's Will, what's this got anything to do with me?!"

They had left the pond behind now and were walking along the street again. Dame Primus waited for an old man with a flat cap to walk past before answering.

"I already told you, I have chosen you to be the Heir."

The human stared at her, her eyes wide as she shook her head silently. Primus saw she was on the verge of freaking out again so she hurried to explain.

"It was a random choice, you must understand. It happened exactly as I said it did in the portfolio. I was expelled from the Upper House before I could make a more informed choice. I picked your file at the last minute."

"So why stick with me? Why not sneak back and pick someone better?"

"Believe me I would prefer that, but unfortunately I doubt Saturday would be so lax a second time and time runs short. The Morrow Days have already ascertained my location, the Nithling they sent was most likely a scout. More will come and soon."

"So are they going to kill me?!"

The Will smiled cunningly.

"They wouldn't dare." she sneered. "You see, I have taken a precautionary measure this time. I have drawn up an amendment to the original paperwork concerning the assentation to Heir. Once you accept your position formally then your life will become tied to the power of the Keys. If you died, then the Keys would all become useless regardless of your having taken them or not."

The girl was looking at her intently as she said this.

"Am I not already the Heir?" she asked, apparently ignoring everything else Primus had said. The Will frowned.

"Well, no, not officially. There is some paperwork to fill out, I have it here for you to –"

"No!" Clara cried, so loudly she disturbed a cloud of birds from their perch in a nearby tree. Primus paused in the action of pulling a scroll of parchment from her sleeve. They had stopped walking and stood facing each other in the middle of the pavement, human and denizen.

"No?!" the Will repeated. The girl was shaking her head desperately.

"I – I'm really sorry about what the Days did to you, but I can't! I can't help you and I can't be the Heir!"

"Of course you can!" the Will snorted. "It's quite simple."

"But I can't fight Morrow Days, I'm nobody! And anyway I don't want to rule the universe or whatever!"

Primus was completely thrown by this and had to think for a moment.

"You would be the most powerful being in the universe." she said carefully, trying to keep her temper. "No one would ever refuse you anything again, you would do whatever you wanted to."

For a moment a look of doubt crossed Clara's face. No matter what she said, Primus knew that all humans secretly desired power.

"I'm not the right person for the job!" the girl insisted. She was backing away again, getting ready to run. "Find someone else!"

"I can't." said Primus through gritted teeth. "I already explained that. If you do not accept your position there is nothing to stop the Morrow Days from coming after you."

"If they know I'm not really an Heir they might not be bothered!"

"Don't be absurd!" Primus snarled. She hadn't meant to, it had come out in temper. She found it hard to be patient with one so obviously stupid. The girl flinched and ran away. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

Dame Primus spent the rest of the day cursing Clara Jenkins and her stubborn fear. If only she could get the damn girl to see sense! It looked as though Primus would have to resort to drastic measures. She had hoped it would not come to this, but it seemed she had no choice in the matter. She watched Clara struggle with the rest of her day until nine o clock, when her friends came and knocked on her bedroom door.

"Hey, we're going out tonight and so are you." said Helen firmly. Primus peered through the window, her wings beating hard to keep her airborne and stationary. She saw Clara wrinkle her nose and squirm.

"No I don't think –"

"Clara, you can come out with us, or we'll drag you out." Helen warned, crossing her arms and looking stern. "You've been acting weird all week. I subscribe alcohol."

"Is that your opinion as a medical student?" Clara asked, grinning. In the end her friends persuaded her to accompany them. Primus had never seen anyone, let alone a human, drink so much so quickly. This was clearly a very bad reaction to finding out the truth. She staggered out of a club at half four with Helen and Meg.

"I don't fleel so goo-good." she said, her voice slurred. She was holding her middle and grimacing.

"O-key someone needs to go to bed." said Meg, supporting Clara as she nearly sunk to the pavement.

"I feel baaaad!" Clara complained. Helen was trying to get hold of a taxi and she swore when she couldn't find a signal.

"What the fuck is wrong with this thing?" she muttered irritably, holding her mobile up n the air and waving it around.

She was unsuccessful, as Primus knew she would be, for she was the one blocking the signal. Unable to call a cab, the girls decided to walk back to Smithton, hauling the unsteady Clara along between them. It was a twenty minute journey in day light but it took them nearly double that in the dark with a drunk friend to take care of. As they approached the underpass that would bring them close to the house, Primus set her plan into motion. She abandoned her female body and entered the mind of a tramp she'd killed earlier that day. She, no, he, lay in wait for the girls and when they were close he stepped out into their path.

"Evening ladies." he rasped, flashing his knife at them. The girls stopped dead in their tracks.

"Run!" Meg screamed. Clara suddenly woke up a lot and turned to leg it too.

Moving like lightning, the Will knocked out Meg and Helen with magic before catching hold of Clara's wrist. She screamed in terror and agony when he plunged the knife into her stomach. She fell to her knees when he let go, her hands clutching her bleeding middle. With a gasp she tugged the knife free, dropping it on the floor before keeling over on her side. The Will left her there and went back to swap her body for that of the woman. When she returned she went to stand imperiously over the twitching body. The child's breath came in short, catching chokes. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth.

"Help!" she managed to whisper, her violently trembling hands gesturing at her stomach. She was not long for this world.

"I cannot." Primus said coldly. "You are human, your lives are fleeting and fragile."

Clara whimpered and coughed up yet more blood. The Will drew back a little, wrinkling its nose in disgust.

"P-please!" the human rasped, jerking as if electricity were coursing through her.

"Perhaps I could save you." said Primus slowly. "If you agreed to be the Heir, you would be magically protected from harm."

"Ok!" Clara said at once. "Quick!"

Well that was easy, messy, but easy. The Will withdrew the necessary paperwork and smoothed it out. The girl must want to live very much. Primus knelt gracefully beside the girl and took her left hand, forcing her fingers to curl around a quill.

"Sign it." she ordered.

The human scrawled a barely legible image of her name before dropping the pen with a howl of pain. Golden sparks flared up her arm and burrowed under the skin, glowing weirdly. The Will backed away quickly as the magic righted the injuries it came across. The gaping hole in Clara's stomach knitted itself closed and the gash in her forehead where she'd hit the pavement healed over. Predictably this was all an agonising experience and Clara screamed herself horse. It took all of two minutes for her to heal completely and after that she simply lay there, quivering from shock. Primus neither spoke nor made any move to help her. After a further three minutes (the Will checked it impatiently on her watch) Clara sat up. She looked like she couldn't quite believe she had survived. Slowly, she turned to look up at her saviour.

"T-thank you!" she breathed, her eyes wide.

"It was nothing." said Primus modestly, waving her hand as if to brush the matter aside. "Now, you have assumed your proper role so things can finally move forward."

"What's going to happen now?" Clara asked, getting to her feet and staggering unsteadily. Primus stowed the paperwork back in her sleeve and replied,

"I am going to arrange a passage for us both to the House where we shall procure allies. Until then, I want you to go to the flat and stay there, do you understand? Do not leave the house until I come and fetch you."

"But I've got lectures!" Clara protested stupidly. The Will frowned.

"No you do not." she said sharply. "You are the Heir to the Keys now, you no longer have duties on Earth. You must dethatch yourself from them."

"What about my family?! I won't have to leave Earth forever will I?"

Clara looked desperately at the Will. Feeling that honesty was not the best policy at the moment, Primus said,

"No, not immediately. But first and foremost you must stay indoors."

Clara nodded then grimaced and pressed a hand to her temple.

"Good." said the Will. "Go to it then, I'll be back in a day or two."


	6. Chapter 6

"Just a moment!" Friday sang as someone knocked on the door of her chambers. Her Noon twisted his head (with some difficulty given that he was pretty much upside down) and peered up at his mistress.

"My lady, perhaps we should –" he began but he broke off when she leant down and pressed a finger to his lips.

"I said, just a moment." she murmured, smiling lazily. She disliked to rush things usually but the knocking was quite insistent.

"Yes, yes alright, come in." Friday sighed as the visitor knocked yet again. The door opened and her Dusk came in. He looked completely unabashed to see his brother stark naked and panting for breath.

"My lady, forgive the interruption but there is an urgent missive from the Upper House." he said, his face professionally neutral. Friday rolled her eyes as she got up from the bed and pulled on her clothes.

"Oh what does Saturday want now?" she asked irritably.

"Apparently the first part of the Will had been recaptured." Dusk explained.

"Really?" said Friday in mild interest, raising an eyebrow.

"Also, the Heir it chose has been located and is being brought to the House as we speak."

"Ah, so Saturday has taken to ignoring Mortal Property Laws now." said Friday contemptuously. Then she sighed wearily again. "Oh very well, if Saturday wants to make a song and dance about it. Dusk, with me."

Dusk bowed and backed out of the door. Friday pulled on her high-heels and made to leave. At the door she paused and glanced back at Noon.

"Don't you dare move from there." she said, smirking. "We'll continue this when I return."

"Yes, m-milady." Noon managed to say. Satisfied, Friday marched down the corridors of the Scriptorium with Dusk in tow.

"So, this Heir, does he have a name?" she asked idly.

"She, ma'am." Dusk corrected. "She is a female called Clara Jenkins."

"A female!" Friday laughed. "Oh dear, Saturday won't be pleased. Where is this Clara from? Which world?"

"Earth milady."

"I should have known." Friday chuckled. They took a fast elevator to the Upper House and arrived in the Court of Days twenty minutes later.

"Wait here." Friday ordered Dusk before striding across the glittering marble hall and entering the Meeting Room. It was a large, dark panelled room with high windows lining the left hand wall. Rain pounded against the glass and dribbled sadly down. The round meeting table had been moved elsewhere as this was not a formal gathering, and so the Trustees were standing around awkwardly. All except Mister Monday who sat slumped in a chair someone had left by the wall. His mouth was lolling open and he was snoring. The others ignored him. Superior Saturday turned to face Friday as she entered.

"You're late." she said coldly. Everything about her was cold really, cold beauty, cold intelligence, like a sculpture of ice.

"Fashionably so." Friday replied smoothly. "Well come on then, where's this Heir you've been moaning about for the past seven years?"

"Thursday's men are bringing her." Saturday said before turning her back.

Thursday glared at her. He was not very tall for a superior denizen, though by human standards he was a giant and six foot four. Nor was he particularly handsome. His brown hair was cut short in the standard army style and no warmth touched his dark eyes. He also had a livid scar running down his left cheek.

"My soldiers are needed in the Maze." he growled. "They do not have time to be running your errands."

"Be silent." Saturday snapped. "They will do as I bid them, as shall you."

Friday watched Thursday's face contort in rage as he balled his hands into fists. Before he could say anything to Saturday, Friday asked,

"So I assume Lord Sunday will not be gracing us with his presence?"

Saturday shot her a look of pure venom and did not answer. There was silence in the room for several minutes, interrupted only by Monday talking in his sleep. Then the sounds of shouting came from outside. As one the Days turned to face the double doors which were opened to admit two members of the Citadel night watch, dragging between them a slight, struggling figure. The human was dressed in night clothes and she was barefoot, revealing she had probably been snatched from her bed. For some bizarre reason she had a cloth bad coving her head so her grunts and shrieks were somewhat muffled. The soldiers hauled her over to the Trustees and the one whose left arm was free snapped a salute.

"Rightful Heir as requested, sir!" he said smartly, staring straight ahead.

"Why the bag?" Tuesday asked in confusion. The soldier's composure slipped a little as the human twisted and writhed in his grip.

"We thought it would calm it a little my lord, you know, the dark and the quiet, but, as you can see it does not appear to be working."

_Clearly_, Friday thought, watching as the girl attempted to kick him in the shins. Saturday clicked her fingers impatiently.

"Take that ridiculous thing off and get out." she ordered. An angry intake of breath from Thursday showed how little he thought of Saturday ordering his own men about in front of him. As it was the men glanced his way expectantly as though waiting for him to confirm this order.

"Get back to the Citadel." he grumbled and they dropped the human so they could both salute him.

The girl was apparently caught unawares because she fell to the floor on all fours. She gasped and blinked furiously when the bag was whipped away. Friday peered interestedly at the creature cowering before them. Human imperfections fascinated her. This girl had long, greasy hair and one or two red spots on her cheeks and chin, but other than that she was alright. She scrambled to her feet and her eyes (a curiously deep shade of blue) darted between them all. Predictably she focused on Saturday and for a moment her fear was replaced by awe. Friday remembered how astonishingly, breathtakingly beautiful they must appear to humans. She was very short in comparison to them, only five foot four at the most. The first thing she blurted out was,

"I'm sorry! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! I didn't mean to! Dame Primus, I mean the Will, made me! Please don't kill me! Please –"

"Silence!" Saturday hissed and the girl was stuck dumb.

Friday observed how her muscles tensed, as though she was poised for flight. This would not be a very sensible thing to do but Friday remembered that mortals, particularly humans, weren't well versed in sense. Sure enough, a moment later the girl bolted. She barely made it two steps before Saturday snared her with a well-aimed spell. The human fell face down with a thump then she shrieked as she was hoisted into the air by the ankle. Her limbs flailed as she dangled seven feet off the ground, her head now level with theirs. Friday was amused to see how she clapped a hand to her stomach to stop her shirt from falling down, sparing her a tiny shred of dignity.

"Put me down!" she whined. "Let me down! Please! I'm sorry! I'm mhmahwmham!"

Her cries were muffled as thick black cords wrapped themselves around her body, pinioning her arms and legs, and smothering her mouth. Her eyes were wide in terror.

"I told you to be silent." Saturday told her coldly. Then, to her fellow Trustees, "So what do we do with it?"

"Kill it?" suggested a voice behind them all. The Days glanced around in surprise for none of them had noticed Monday wake up. He was peering grumpily at the human who was wailing at his words.

"We can't kill it, imbecile." Saturday growled. "Now shut up, none of this would have happened if you had taken proper care of your part of the Will."

Tuesday prodded the human's shoulder with a contemptuous look, causing her to swing comically.

"Why would the Will choose something so weedy to be the Heir?" he sneered. The human made an indignant noise and twisted around to glare at Tuesday.

"I think you offended her." Friday chuckled.

"Enough!" snapped Saturday. "It doesn't matter why it was chosen. The first part of the Will has been imprisoned once more, with the strongest enchantments this time to put a stop to its nonsense once and for all. However, the Lesser Key is still stuck to that damn corpse and it will not do. It is not how it should be."

Friday knew what Saturday was talking about. This little escapade had made them all nervous. If one part of the Will could escape, then perhaps the others might do the same. They needed all the Keys to be with their proper masters to lay this matter to rest. She cast her eye over Clara Jenkins once more and hummed thoughtfully. The other Days looked at her questioningly.

"What if Miss Jenkins here helped us?" she suggested. Both Clara and Saturday frowned.

"What do you mean?" asked Saturday suspiciously. She was always suspicious. Friday elaborated.

"The Lesser Key will answer to the Rightful Heir, Miss Jerkins could take it from the corpse and give it back to Monday."

"That is…interesting." Saturday allowed grudgingly. Clara started wriggling again and tried to speak through her gag. After a nod from Saturday, Friday dispelled the part of the sorcerous rope coving Clara's mouth.

"Thank you!" Clara gasped. "Thanks. I'll do that, I promise, if you promise not to kill me and send me home."

"We do not bargain with mortal brats!" Tuesday flared up at once. "You will do as we command or die."

"But you can't kill me, cause your Keys will all be rendered useless." Clara objected, shooting Tuesday a look of great dislike. Tuesday looked a little taken aback by her boldness and Friday smiled.

"She's shrewd this one." she said. "Very well my dear. We shall swear on our Keys that you will be returned to Earth safe and sound, if you do us this favour. We'd be most obliged if you helped us clear this nasty business up."

"And what about in sixty Earth years when she dies of old age?" Tuesday demanded. "Or before then! Humans are clumsy idiots, she could get herself killed in an accident or from illness."

He looked to Saturday and Thursday for support. He'd be unlikely to find it in the latter, Friday thought, Thursday was famous for his disdain of politics. However she wasn't so sure about Saturday whose expression was difficult to read. Finally the Mistress of the Upper House spoke carefully.

"It could sign an abdication form. Then our Keys would be safe should anything happen to it."

"But you have to swear not to hurt me!" the girl insisted. Annoyance flickered across Saturday's face.

"Very well!" she snarled. "But if it is to return to Earth, it can't go immediately. Magic in inimical to mortals, sending it back would count as interference and I for one do not want to rack up any more charges! That last fine was not pleasant to behold. I suppose we could drain the magic gradually from its blood but that would take at least a year of House time."

Clara did not look very happy about this and neither did Tuesday.

"And who will be burdened with it whilst we are waiting for this? I will not be responsible for this infantile mortal!" he declared firmly.

"I'll look after her." Friday volunteered.

"Certainly not." said Thursday, speaking for the first time in a while. "We all know what you do with mortals Friday."

Friday threw him a filthy look and Clara glanced between them in alarm.

"Enough bickering!" Saturday cried, clearly losing patience with them all. "Friday will have custody, there will be no more arguing."

"And you'll swear not to –" Clara began.

"Fine!" Saturday spat. "Fine, we will swear not to kill you, so long as you return Monday's Key to him."

Friday was surprised Saturday would agree so readily to this plan and watched her suspiciously as she raised the sixth Key.

"I, Superior Saturday, Lady of the Upper House, do swear not to harm the Rightful Heir, and to return her to Earth. I swear on the sixth Key, on behalf of myself and my fellow Trustees."


	7. Chapter 7

The sixth Key glowed and a moment later so did all the others. Friday dropped her hand to her belt and touched the fifth Key absently until it stopped sparkling. Saturday glared at the human.

"There, happy now?" she sneered. Clara nodded and Friday clapped her hands together.

"Excellent! Well, I think that's all we can do for tonight. We'll arrange for the transfer of the First Key some other time. For now, I think I'll take Miss Jenkins back with me to the Middle House. If you could release her for me Saturday dear?"

Saturday flicked the sixth Key again and the child's eyes went wide.

"Hey! Hang on, nonononono, ah!"

She dropped like a stone but Friday caught her by the ankle before she cracked her head on the stone floor.

"Careful now, don't want her getting hurt now do we?" Friday chided, lowering the human a little more gently to the ground. She got unsteadily to her feet and staggered drunkenly, clutching her reeling head.

"Right then I'd best be off, come along dear." Friday said. The human glanced anxiously at the other Days before trotting off after Friday. Behind them she heard Thursday mutter,

"She'll have experienced it by the end of the week."

The Mistress of the Middle House scowled at his impudent words but smoothed it away once the doors closed. She smiled warmly at the human.

"It's Clara, isn't it?" she asked kindly.

"Yes." Clara said hesitantly. She was worrying the hem of her shirt in her hands.

"Such a pretty name." Friday sighed. "Well Clara, I hope you will at least be comfortable whilst you stay with me. Dusk? Come here."

Dusk obediently crossed the hall towards them, casting the human a curious look.

"This is Clara, Dusk. She is the Rightful Heir and will be our guest for the foreseeable future."

A flicker of surprise crossed Dusk's face but he dispelled it almost at once.

"Charmed, Miss." he said graciously. Friday checked her watch.

"Let's go, Saturday doesn't like people hanging around her domain." They entered the fifth lift from the left on the bank lining the far wall.

The interior was all gilded gold and Friday stepped onto the rotunda in the middle, as did Dusk. Clara however loitered for a moment before opting the stand beside it instead. This rendered her even shorter and she cast dubious glances up at Friday every now and then. She looked like she wanted to ask something and a moment later she did.

"Um, my friends, and my parents…" she began tentatively.

"What about them?" Friday asked.

"Well people will notice if I go missing for a year."

"I doubt it. Time runs true in the House and meanders elsewhere. A year in the House may be equal to mere hours on earth, a couple of days at the most."

"Oh." said Clara, looking surprised and relieved. "Oh well that's ok then."

The rest of the journey was spent in silence. It took twenty minutes for them to arrive once more in the Scriptorium. The human was swaying badly and her eyes seemed to be slipping in and out of focus.

"This is the Scriptorium." Friday explained, gesturing around the entrance hall. The ceiling was made of domed glass, dark now given the lateness of the hour. Directly before the lift was the main door and on the left and right, long halls filled with mirrors. The tiles on the floor were black and white like chess board and Clara stepped precariously over it.

"You may come and go as you please." Friday informed her. "In the morning I'll show you the rest of the domain if you wish."

"T-thank you." Clara mumbled faintly. Friday frowned a little.

"My dear are you quite well?" she asked with a good show at concern. Clara put a hand to her forehead.

"I'm, I don't feel, great." she groaned. Then she fainted. Dusk caught hold of her and Friday sighed.

"Humans." she said regretfully. "Why does passing through the Front Door take it out of them so? Would you mind taking her up to a spare room?"

Dusk's nose wrinkled a fraction in distaste but he still sung Clara up into his arms. He turned towards the stairs but paused, with his foot on the lowest step.

"Milady," he began carefully. "Is this wise? Having the Heir around may prove dangerous."

Friday laughed.

"Dusk, be serious, do you honestly think this little girl could possibly pose a threat to any of us? No, it will amuse me to have Jenkins around. Now I seemed to recall I left Noon waiting for me. When I'm done with him I expect you to service me."

"Of course milady." Dusk said humbly.

.

.

.

The following morning Friday entered the guest bedroom that had been allocated to Clara without knocking. The human was still asleep, with her mouth slightly open and her hair in a tangled mess all over the pillow. Friday moved carefully about the room so as not to wake her. One of the servants had already been in with a breakfast tray which sat on the coffee table beside the empty grate. There was a rack of toast, some porridge, a plate of crumpets, butter, jam, marmalade and a steaming pot of tea. Friday bent to pour a cup each for herself and Clara. The clinking of porcelain woke the human with a start.

"Good morning Clara." Friday said brightly, bringing over the cup and saucer. "Do you take milk?"

Clara nodded, rubbing sleep from her eyes and propping herself up on the pillows. She cast a despondent look around her.

"Damn it wasn't a dream." she muttered and Friday chuckled.

"I'm afraid not, sugar?"

"Just one please."

Friday stirred the tea and handed it to Clara, earning herself a murmured thanks. Friday settled in the chair beside the bed with her own tea and after taken a sip she inquired,

"So, how much did the Will tell you about the House?"

"A little bit." Clara explained. "I didn't think it was real though! Just a story. I know about the domains, kind of know what they all do, oh and there was a character profile of all the Trustees."

"Good, so you're not completely confused then." said Friday contentedly. "Last night for instance, you knew who was who I trust?"

"Uh, kind of, Saturday was the really tall one right?"

"She was indeed. Don't mind her, she's like that with everyone."

Clara grimaced and once she had drained her cup Friday got up.

"We need to find you some decent clothes, we can't have you wandering around in your pyjamas now can we?"

Clara's smile was a little forced but Friday ignored this as she crossed to the wardrobe.

"Why don't you eat some breakfast whilst I pick something out for you to wear?"

"Ok, thanks." said Clara. Friday heard her slide off the bed and pad over to the tray. When she emerged once more she saw her nibbling on a corner of toast, without much of an appetite.

"I think this will serve you well." Friday said, draping a blue velvet dress over the back of a chair. It was of the highest quality and had cost excessive amount of gold since it was an original from Earth, not a copy woven in the Far Reaches. "At least until we can get you fitted out in clothes of your own."

"Thank you. Um, can I ask you something?"

"You may ask anything you wish." replied Friday with a faint smile.

"Why is everything Victorian?"

"Fashion, it changes every couple of centuries." Friday shrugged. "Now once you've finished eating you can get dressed and then come down stairs. I'll show you Top Shelf this morning."

Friday left her to it and retreated to her office off the left hand mirror hall. It was not a large room but it was handsome, with a mahogany desk and a plush red carpet. A golden carriage clock ticked faintly on the window sill where ceiling light was spilling into the room. Friday leant against the desk and amused herself by spying on her subjects through the fifth key for a while. She ensured that there were mirrors all over her domain so she could keep an eye on things. There happened to be a very ornate mirror hanging over the fireplace in Clara's room and out of sheer curiosity Friday alighted on that one. She watched Clara pick at her breakfast before giving it up and got up off the carpet.

She changed quickly into the dress and Friday narrowed her eyes ever critically. She had never seen a naked human before, not a real one anyway. She'd seen plenty of portraits and statues (Tuesday's fetish for collecting them was quite alarming at times) but they weren't the same as the real thing. Friday lowered the Key and placed it carefully back in its proper place. Then she raised her voice a little.

"Dusk? Could you come in here a moment?"

Dusk poked his head around the door.

"Yes milady?" he asked.

"Is no around?"

"No ma'am. He was called back to the Middle of the Middle an hour ago."

Friday sighed.

"Oh well, I suppose you'll have to do for now." she said regretfully. "If you'd be so good as to close the door."

"Of course ma'am." Dusk said, dutifully.


	8. Chapter 8

Those first few days staying with Friday in the Scriptorium were quite bizarre. Clara couldn't decide if she ought to be frightened, relieved or down right insulted by Friday's patronising. She was grateful to the Mistress of the Middle House for fighting her corner at the meeting but the way she spoke to Clara was certainly demeaning. On that first morning, Clara came down to Friday's office, kitted out in her new dress and knocked.

"Come in." Friday called sweetly and Clara pushed the door open.

Dusk and Friday were standing on the other side of the desk, the former adjusting his cravat fussily whilst Friday smoothed the skirts of her own dress. When she saw Clara she clapped her hands together.

"There now that looks much better. Dusk, wouldn't you agree?"

"Most becoming madam." he said, nodding.

He stood a little behind Friday so she didn't see him shoot Clara a sarcastic smile. Clara took an immediate dislike to him and her eyes flashed dangerously. Unaware of this transaction, Friday walked around the desk and out of the door, beckoning to her young charge as she went.

"Come on then, the ceiling is nearly at full power so there ought to be a good view from the terrace. Oh and Dusk don't forget you've got that meeting with One Who Survived the Darkness at six."

Clara couldn't help but be impressed upon seeing the terrace for the first time. The Scriptorium sat atop the mountain of the Middle House and there were series of terraces at intervals down the slope.

"That is the Upper Sky Lock." Friday said once they had reached the bottom of the wide stairs and were standing by the balcony. She pointed towards a sprawling port at the base of the mountain and an open hatch, as large as a house, through which water rushed. "The Middle House has three shelves, the Flat, the Middle of the Middle and Top Shelf. The Extremely Grand Canal connects them all and the two Sky Locks are closed every night at dusk."

Clara's gaze swept the mountain but from the corner of her eye she sensed Friday watching her closely.

"Do you like it?" Friday asked. Clara nodded.

"Yeah I do." she said appreciatively. "It's kind of like Placa Espanya, except bigger, and without all the fountains."

She leant over the balcony and pointed at a red brick building perched halfway between the Sky Lock and the Scriptorium.

"What's that?"

"That is the headquarters of the Guild of Binding and Restoration. In fact, why don't we go and take a look at it?"

It was very much like being dragged around by a primary school teacher on a field trip. They spent the morning wandering around Top Shelf and in the afternoon Clara was allowed to shut herself up in her room whilst Friday worked on some paperwork. It had already crossed Clara's mind to try and escape, but where would she go? She doubted she'd be able to find her own way out of the House, and even if she did the Trustees would simply come after her again. As far as she could tell she was stuck here until they managed to drain all the magic from her body. And until then she had to endure Friday and her sycophantic manner.

Two days later was a Monday, and Friday deemed it a good day for Clara to fulfil her side of the bargain. They caught a lift to the Lower House, specifically somewhere called 'the Day Room'. They arrived in a front hall to the left of some stairs. Apart from a ginger cat snoozing behind the umbrella stand next to the door, the place was deserted. Clara looked around curiously whilst Friday tisked.

"Monday." she sighed. "I knew he'd forget. Wait here sweetie, I'll fetch him down."

She left Clara dithering awkwardly by the banister whilst she mounted the stairs. Once she'd disappeared Clara wandered over the cat. She bent down to stoke it, but just as she was reaching out her hand she saw the silhouettes of two figures rippling through the frosted glass panes in the door. Hastily she backed away to her original position just as the front door opened to admit a man and a woman. The man's waistcoat was bottle green whilst the woman had blonde curls and a floaty pink dress. Needless to say they were both good-looking and they were talking loudly. However when they caught sight of me they pulled up short.

"What are you doing in here?" the woman demanded. "Who are you?"

"I'm Clara." said Clara, subconsciously drawing herself up to her full height. She did not like being so much shorter than everyone she met. "I came with Friday."

Comprehension dawned on the man's face.

"Oh it's _you_ is it?" he asked with a sneer. "You're that human who ended up being the new Heir."

"You can't be serious!" the woman laughed. "You're telling me that this is the little glob of Nothing whose been calling all the trouble? I mean look at it! What a drab little thing."

Clara's blood boiled and she opened her mouth to retort but before she could the man called,

"Sneezer you useless lump! Get up here and take my cloak."

"Sorry Mr Noon sir." wheezed an old man in a butler's uniform as he shoved past Clara to catch the cloak which Noon threw at him. Whilst he was struggling with that a disgruntled voice demanded,

"What is all this noise?!"

Clara looked up and saw a second man's head poking out over the banisters above her. He was identical in every way to Noon except that his hair was black rather than blonde. He looked extremely displeased, his eyes were glued together with sleep.

"Ah brother, you're awake!" said Noon cheerfully. Dusk (Clara guessed that was who he was) grumbled something incoherent and came down the stairs. He was wearing grey silk pyjamas and a black dressing gown.

"Unlike some people, I was working all night!" he growled at his siblings. "How many times have I asked you to keep it down?"

"Counting this one? 9, 562." Noon answered promptly. "Besides we were only greeting our guest."

All three of them glanced at Clara and she felt herself redden like a ripe strawberry. Luckily Friday reappeared at the top of the stairs and called,

"Clara darling, Mister Monday is ready for you now. Oh good morning boys, Dawn."

She tipped Dusk a huge wink and he immediately turned pink. Clara tried not to smirk as she hurried up the stairs to join Friday. Her smile evaporated the moment she entered a small, bare room with nothing in it but Mister Monday, slumped in a wicker bath chair, and a simple table. Clara's gaze fixed at once on the figure lying on the table and she drew back a little in fear. As a student of archaeology, she had handled bones in the lab plenty of times and even spent a summer digging them up, but there was something about the body on the table that unnerved her to her very core. It was blackened and charred, burnt beyond recognition, and so small that it could only have belonged to a child.

"Who is that?" she asked, whispering for some reason.

"The last Heir the Will chose." Friday explained carelessly. "He died in an accident before Monday could retrieve the Lesser Key, now it's stuck to the body, see?"

She pointed at a protuberance that might once have been an arm, and a silver spike at the end of it.

"But, they were a child!" Clara persisted, unable to tare her eyes away from the gruesome spectacle. "The Will chose a kid?! And they died!"

"Whatever is the matter sweet heart?" Friday asked in surprise. Neither she nor Monday seemed to understand Clara's distress, or why she was backing away. Monday scowled.

"Just get on with it human! I want my Key back!" he grumbled. Friday put a hand on the small of Clara's back and pushed her towards the table.

"The sooner you give him the Key, the sooner we can leave and put this whole nasty affair behind us." she cooed.

Clara swallowed and after a moment of hesitation, stepped up to the table. She tried not to look at the head as she wrapped her fingers around the Lesser Key. It buzzed on her skin and glowed faintly blue as she tugged. It was well and truly stuck but after some degree of twisting and wiggling she got it free and thrust it at Monday without looking at him. He snatched it back and sighed in relief.

"Can we go now?" Clara demanded, looking anywhere but at the corpse.

"Yes." said Friday briskly. "It's far too macabre in here. Tell you, let's go to Port Wednesday, we can visit a tailor and get you measured up. Does that sound nice?"

For the next few days Clara couldn't get the image of the charred body out of her head. She dreamt about it and woke in the middle of the night covered in sweat and gasping for breath. She kept imagining what would have happened if the Will had got to her before the Trustees did. It would have roped her into a dangerous, near suicidal task. Despite the fact that her current situation was far from ideal, she was infinitely glad the Will was locked away safely. Precisely a week after arriving, Friday made an announcement over breakfast that drove the corpse from Clara's mind for the first time since seeing it.

"I'm taking you to the Upper House today." Friday said, buttering a crumpet.

Clara glanced up from her porridge and across the table at her host. They often ate together in the parlour off the right hand mirror hall. Clara was at last beginning to learn the layout of the Scriptorium and had managed to find the parlour all by herself for the past couple of days.

"Why?" she asked, trying to sound curious rather than suspicious. Friday dipped a knife into the jam pot and answered,

"Because Saturday asked me to. I believe she has scheduled an hour today for your blood cleansing."

Ah yes, that.

"It won't hurt will it?" Clara asked anxiously. Friday shrugged.

"I doubt it. Now then, who's who in the Upper House? I highly doubt Saturday will come and greet us in person, most likely she'll send one of her Times. Her Dawn is a rather recent addition and still goes by his old name, Pravuil. I'd be wary of him, he's slimy and ambitious, which is exactly why he got the job when the last Dawn went missing."

Clara raised her eyebrows at this but made no comment.

"Saturday's Noon is unlikely to give you any trouble, in fact he's so arrogant he won't even give you the Time of Day, no pun intended. Now Dusk is more likely to at least talk to you. He used to be Noon before Saturday switched them."

"Why did she…?"

"Oh Dusk offended her somehow." Friday said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway he's far better at basic manners than his brothers-in-office."

He also happened to be fabulous in bed. Friday was not generally a fan of gentle lovers but Saturday's Dusk was extremely…thorough, making him the exception. He had a mighty high opinion of himself but then again so did anyone north of the Great Maze. Clara nodded and her expression was intent that Friday wondered that she didn't produce a pen and paper and start taking notes.


	9. Chapter 9

The collar of the starched white shirt was itchy. Clara liked her new clothes, the crimson velvet trench jacket and the thigh high black boots, but why did they have to be so uncomfortable?! She fidgeted for the whole journey but forced herself to stay still as the needle above the doors approached its final floor. Friday put a hand on Clara's shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry." she soothed. "Saturday wouldn't dare harm a single hair on your head."

"Mm." was all Clara said in reply.

She had a feeling that she'd throw up if she opened her mouth. To say she was nervous was the biggest understatement of the century. To say she felt like tomorrow was A Level results day, the first day of Primary, Secondary and University all rolled into one, that would be closer to it. The lift swayed suddenly and Clara swayed, grabbing hold of the rotunda to save herself. Friday sighed and cast her gaze irritably towards the ceiling.

"I wish they wouldn't do that." she muttered, just as the doors pinged open.

As Friday had predicted, Saturday was nowhere in sight when they stepped out (something which Clara was infinitely glad for). They were back in the marble hall of the Court of Days and in Saturday's stead stood three men. They all bowed to Friday.

"Lady Friday." said the one on the left. "Our Mistress you was not expecting you to accompany the cargo."

He had spindly arms and legs, greasy blond hair and a silly thin moustache. Bizarrely the first thing Clara could compare him to was a big, slimy salmon, probably because his hail coat was pastel pink. His manner was unctuous and she took an instant dislike to him, mainly because she was fairly she he'd just referred to her as 'cargo'. Friday allowed him to kiss her hand.

"Just a flying visit Pravuil." she said. "I thought I'd escort my young friend here."

Clara nodded shyly at Saturday's Times around Friday. Pravuil's mouth curled into a sneer upon catching sight of her. The man in the middle, who had brown hair and eyes, didn't so much as look at her. Instead he glanced down at his pocket watch boredly. The man on the right however, smiled at Clara. Her gaze zeroed in on him. He was a fraction of an inch shorter than Mr Bored (thought still a good six and a something footer, and taller than Pravuil) and he was fucking _gorgeous_! His sleek black hair had a boyish flip to it and his ebony eyes studied her closely. If he would just ditch the monocle then his Victorian Dandy look would be perfection. He touched the brim of his hat to Clara.

"Good evening Miss. Our Mistress has asked us to escort you to the university. Saturday's Dusk at your service."

"Hi." Cara said breathlessly.

She wondered if she should curtsy or something, but decided against it for the time being. Quite apart from the fact that she found such gestures outdated and demeaning, she would probably do it wrong any way. Mr Bored, who by process of elimination had to be Noon, interrupted Clara's train of thought.

"Shall we be off?" he asked, casting Friday a meaningful look. She smiled at him.

"Yes, lets. Clara needs to get to bed after this." she said.

Clara struggled not to glare at her for this. Pravuil led the way over to the doors which he opened. The racket of the downpour increased and Clara pulled the hood of her cloak up with a grimace. Pravuil opened his umbrella and strode off down the steps of the court building. Noon stepped outside and opened his brolly too, offering his arm eagerly to Friday. She took it graciously and walked off with him. Dusk didn't offer his arm to Clara but he did gesture for her to walk with him beneath his umbrella. She scurried underneath gratefully.

The Court of Days was located on a huge, damp, square. It was lined on the other three sides by drab grey buildings. Horse drawn carts and carriages zoomed past sending water flying from puddles. Denizens dressed in varying degrees of grandeur were bustling to and fro, most of them with piles of scrolls tucked under their arms, or quills following them around in mid-air as they dictated to them. As Clara and Dusk descended the steps half a dozen denizens in posh red waistcoats followed them and arranged themselves in a loose box formation. Clara glanced around at them nervously.

"Who are they?" she asked, jerking her head at the new comers. Dusk glanced at them disdainfully.

"Artful Loungers." he explained. "Noon's their commander. My mistress thought we needed a little extra support."

Clara stared at him and then down at herself.

"Well damn." she said sarcastically. "I thought if it was just you three I could have over powered you, but now I've got no chance!"

Dusk chuckled and Clara felt a curious tingling sensation run up her spine. Dismissing it as cold she jumped over a puddle to avoid drenching her boots. They turned off the main street into a quieter district of red brick buildings. The denizens who passed them now all wore long red robes. Not that many of them chose to pass their party, most saw them coming, turned on their heels and walked swiftly the other way, or else dove into the nearest building. They came to large archway leading to a courtyard. Across the way were a set of double doors which Pravuil pushed open.

"The Human Labs milady." he said to Friday as he closed and shook out his umbrella. "Superior Saturday deemed this the most appropriate place to carry out the cleaning. This way please."

As he turned off the main hall and started upstairs, Clara turned her head slightly and muttered.

"Human labs?"

"Actually it's the Institute of Applied Anatomical Metamorphism, Mortal department." Dusk explained. "But we at the university just call it the Human Labs for short. Don't worry, if anything goes wrong with your blood cleansing, there are people here who know about human anatomy."

Not entirely reassured by this, Clara followed in Friday and Noon's wake up the stairs. When they turned onto a corridor on the first floor she saw purple smoke issuing from a door halfway down. Just when they were outside someone within the room shouted something in a funny language.

"Ouch!" Clara squeaked, stumbling and pressing her fingers to her mouth. Her escort stopped and those in front turned around in surprise.

"What's the matter dear?" Friday asked, dragging Noon back towards her.

"My teeth!" Clara wailed, pushing her knuckles into her mouth and whining. Comprehension dawned on Dusk's face.

"Ah…" he sighed regretfully. "I'd forgotten the Architect's words are inimical to mortals."

"Oh yes of course!" said Friday, looking down at Clara with interest.

"Aw, aw, aw!" she sobbed, actually beating at her jaw to drive away the pain. Dusk took charge of the situation.

"Come on." he said briskly and he grabbed her upper arm to drag her away. The pain receded as they turned into the next corridor.

"What was that?!" Clara demanded, rubbing her cheek ruefully.

"A student, practising magic." said Dusk carelessly. "Must remember to drop the Dean a note telling him to bar magic on campus during your visits. Ah here we are!"

They had reached a lab full of rows and rows of long slate topped tables. Bunsen burners sat on most of the benches, heating glass balls full of oddly coloured liquids. The whole room smelt of harsh chemicals. On the closest bench sat a tray of silver medical instruments, small shining knives and pointy dentists picks. Despite the resemblance Clara's very own archaeology tool kit back home, they did not fill her with confidence. Pravuil barely stifled a yawn and gazed longingly out of the window at the gathering darkness.

"Do you think you can handle this Dusk? I have some urgent business to attend to." he said lazily.

Dusk threw him a look of ill-disguised contempt and nodded stiffly. Pravuil bade Friday goodnight, ignored Clara, and departed. Noon was whispering something in an undertone to Friday who smiled and nodded slowly.

"Clara darling, do you think you'll be alright by yourself now? Only Noon and I have some tedious issues we need to discuss in private."

"Uh…" Clara said, eyeing the syringe Dusk was busy preparing. "Actually—"

"Excellent! I'm sure Dusk here will help you get back to the elevators safe and sound once he's done with you. Toodaloo darling!"

She wiggled her fingers and left Clara alone with only Dusk for company. Clara scowled briefly and Dusk snorted.

"Pop yourself on here if you please Miss Jenkins." he said, patting the work bench. Clara hopped nimbly up and rolled up her sleeve as far back as she could.

"So," said Dusk after he'd fed a drip in her arm and made sure it was slowly extracting the magic infected blood from her body. "How are you enjoying your stay with Lady Friday Miss Jenkins?"

"Clara, please, and it's ok I suppose. She's…nice enough." said Clara, watching the red stuff dripping along the tube and into a beaker.

She didn't want to sound ungrateful by complaining about Friday's tendency to baby her but Dusk seemed to glean her meaning anyway.

"The Trustees don't get a lot of contact with humans of your age, their only experiences are with Piper's Children and even they are limited. You must forgive Friday if she treats you like a child." he said lightly, busying himself with the instruments. Clara observed him with great interest but averted her gaze when he glanced her way.

"I haven't seen any Piper's Children." she said just so she could avoid sinking into awkward silence. "I've been looking, cause I'd like some other human's to talk to."

"Oh they'll be around somewhere, they're always getting under foot. But I suspect you'd find their company a little immature. They are _children_ after all, and you are a young woman."

The two continued to chat until Dusk deemed that enough blood had been extracted. He unhooked Clara from the drip and gaze her gauze to mop up the excess blood. When she jumped down from the bench her head spun and she stumbled. Dusk supported her and chuckled.

"You may feel a little light headed for a while. May I suggest you eat something nutritious when you get back to the Middle House and then head straight to bed?"

"O-okay." said Clara, blinking hard and shaking her head.

Dusk took her back to the Court f Days where she could catch a direct lift to the Scriptorium. Friday was nowhere to be seen so it had to be assumed that her discussion with Noon was keeping her. Just before she left, Dusk surprised and pleased Clara by kissing her hand and wishing her luck until the next week's meeting. She couldn't help but feel a warm glow in her stomach the whole ride back.


	10. Chapter 10

For the next few weeks, Clara became aware of something strange going on in the Scriptorium. She was allowed to come and go as she pleased so long as she was around to spend the evening meal with Friday. She wondered all over Top Shelf and was soon catching Inter-Domainial elevators to other parts of the House. Port Wednesday in particular became her favourite haunt because the stalls selling items from Earth and elsewhere had a comforting familiarity about them. But whenever she was in the Scriptorium Clara could help but get the feeling that she was being watched. She often spent the evenings sitting curled up on the window seat in Friday's sitting room reading whilst Friday herself rounded off her paper work.

The Mistress of the Middle House didn't seem to mind Clara's company, in fact she even seemed to enjoy her conversation, but this didn't stop her from dismissing her guest at odd times. Whenever Dusk or Noon came in she would bid Clara goodnight in a tone that clearly said 'go away now'. This puzzled Clara for a couple of weeks until she discovered what was going on completely by chance. She had her suspicions for a while, Noon always had messy hair for a start, and red stains on his shirt collars. She was walking past Friday's office on the way to the library when she caught the sounds of heavy breathing. Sure she'd misheard, she backed up and squinted through the crack in the door.

Through it she quite clearly saw Friday and Noon_ snogging_, snogging like there was no tomorrow. Clara's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a splutter of amusement.

"Where's the human?" Noon asked breathlessly.

"Oh wondering around the terrace, she won't be disturbing us." Friday said dismissively. Guess again, Clara thought. Noon pulled away with a pained expression.

"Milady I really do have to get back, the Secretarial Knights —"

"Can surely survive your absence for ten minutes." Friday interrupted, pulling him back by the cravat.

Clara's eyebrows shot up as Noon's hands fumbled with his belt and she decided that this was good point to leave them to it. So, Friday was having howdy do's with the staff eh? Well it certainly explained the fishy behaviour. It didn't bother Clara in particular but it did cause her some embarrassment two weeks later. It was about midnight and Clara was about to lock herself away in her room with a good book she'd come across earlier in the day when she heard someone knock on the front door. With no one else in the hall to answer, she pulled the door open to find a short, armour clad figure standing there.

In the month she had been in the House, Clara had not once come across a Piper's Child despite her best efforts. Denizens were always complaining about them but she had never even seen one. So it was quite a surprise to be confronted with one now. The child's golden armour was so complete that she couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl but judging by their height they could not have been older than thirteen or so.

"Hello." said Clara kindly. The kid saluted her and spoke in a crackly voice, as if through a bad speaker.

"Message Lady Friday Friday's Dawn."

"You mean, a message _for_ her?" Clara corrected cautiously. The child (Clara still couldn't determine gender) held out an envelope towards her.

"Message Lady Friday Friday's Dawn. Urgent." they repeated. Clara took the letter and nodded.

"Ok, I'll make sure she gets it." she said smiling warmly as she did.

The child saluted again before flapping off towards the Upper Sky Lock. Clara watched this graceful flight a little wistfully before closing the door and looking around the hall. She doubted Friday would be in her office at this time but decided to check anyway. Of course she wasn't there so she wondered back into the hall, chewing her lip thoughtfully. Noon came walking down the stairs and threw her his usual look of dislike.

"Do you know where Friday is?" Clara asked somewhat coldly. The dislike was mutual. "Someone just arrived with an important message from Dawn."

"Her ladyship has retired to her chamber. But I believe she is still awake, she had some business to take care of first."

"Oh so she won't mind if I go and give this to her then?"

Noon smiled widely, something he had never done in front of Clara before.

"I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you." he said.

Foolishly, Clara disregarded his Cheshire Catness and hurried past him up the stairs, following his instructions to Friday's room. When she got there she knocked three times.

"Who is it?" Friday called.

"It's me." Clara answered, her voice slightly raised. "There's a message, apparently it's urgent."

There was a pause of about ten seconds before Friday replied.

"Alright, come on in Clara."

She opened the door and stepped briskly over the threshold, only to falter and look quickly away.

"Oh, god, sorry I didn't realise I was interrupting anything." she spluttered, her face boiling like an egg.

"Not at all sweetheart, we were done anyway weren't we Dusk?" said Friday cheerily, tying her robe closed and folding herself gracefully into a chair by the writing desk.

Dusk, who was lounging in the luxurious four poster bed and as far as Clara could tell not wearing a stitch of clothing beneath the red and black satin sheets, nodded.

"You're up late tonight Jenkins." he commented. Clara closed her eyes briefly in horror at the situation and babbled,

"W-wasn't tired. Uh, yeah, this just came for you."

She walked over to Friday and handed her the letter before stepping smartly back.

"It's from your Dawn, a Piper's Kid brought it. I don't know what it's about. I'll just, ah, go, now, sorry." Clara garbled but Friday put up a finger to silence her.

"Ah ah ah, stay there a moment." she said, reading the letter quickly. "Hm, looks like troubles brewing on the Flat. I suppose I ought to intervene this time. Clara darling, could you run and tell Noon where I'm going? I suspect I'll be gone until morning."

"Yeah, fine." Clara said, and she turned to escape as quickly as she possibly could.

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"So then right, she's like, 'oh darling! Run along and tell that sneaking prat Noon where I'm going!'." Clara concluded, making her voice high and posh in imitation of Friday's.

Saturday's Dusk chuckled and adjusted the drip so that the blood flowed more freely. This was Clara's fifth visit to the Upper House and it had become a kind of weekly therapy session where she moaned about Friday. Dusk was a sympathetic listener.

"Are he you sure he was completely…?" he asked slowly, giving Clara a meaningful look.

"O naturel? Oh yes, hence my dying a little bit inside." she said firmly and Dusk shook his head smiling.

"Well let's just say you were lucky." he said grimly, tapping the side of the blood jar absently with his fingernail. "I remember a couple of millennia ago at a cocktail party Grim Tuesday was throwing, I walked in on him, Lady Friday_ and_ her Noon in a most unorthodox position."

"You're kidding!" Clara snorted.

"I'm surprised I didn't need counselling."

Clara laughed heartily at that and tried very hard to get the mental image of Friday engaged in a threesome out of her head. She stopped sniggering once she noticed Dusk gazing at her intently. She cleared her throat in embarrassment and averted her gaze.

"So, uh, that's my fun filled week. Anything interesting been going on up here?"

"Oh not in particular." Dusk shrugged. "A new range of automans exploded on level 636 yesterday, probably a glitch in the system."

"God, hope no one was hurt. What are automans anyway?"

"Just machines we use to build the Tower."

"Ah right."

Clara watched him unnecessarily take her pulse and check it against his pocket watch. His fingers were cool and smooth against her skin and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep a check on her thoughts.

"Can I ask what the Tower is for?" she asked, simply to distract herself. Dusk glanced up at her briefly and the sight of those velvety black eyes did little to help her distraction plan.

"You may." he said slowly. "It's hardly a great secret, though I think it unwise for you to discuss it in public. Lady Saturday commissioned the Tower not long after the breaking of the Will. She is trying to attack the Incomparable Gardens."

"Why?"

"Because she believes that she should rule them, not Lord Sunday. You see she is the eldest denizen in the House. She dislikes working under someone who is several thousand years her junior. Also…ah, actually I'd better not tell you that."

"What?!" Clara asked eagerly. She could tell he had said that just to make her curious and he tapped his nose irritatingly.

"Ah now I can't go spreading my mistress' secret now can I?" he asked coyly.

"Oh come on!" Clara snapped impatiently. "God men are annoying!"

"That tone won't convince me to tell you." he said and Clara scowled at him.

"Dusk!" she said warningly and he drew back a little in mock fear.

"That one will." he admitted. "Very well, but you must keep this very close to your chest, I'd be dead if she found out I told anyone."

Clara nodded and Dusk leant in until she could actually feel his breath on her face. It smelt minty and fresh and tickled the tip of her nose.

"Not very many people are aware," he began in a low murmur that Clara told herself sternly was not in the least bit alluring, "That the Architect liked to use the Days as playthings. They were her first denizens, her first experiments. She liked making them dance for her pleasure. Lord Sunday and my mistress were once…intimate. When the Architect found out, she ordered them to become engaged. She liked the idea of her son marrying her first creation."

"Bloody hell." Clara exclaimed. "I had no idea they were married!"

"Oh they weren't, only engaged. He kept putting the actual marriage off. It was very strange situation indeed. Everyone else thought they were both furious about the match, but I have my own suspicions. I believe they were both earnestly fond of one another, but Sunday was so proud and arrogant he couldn't bear the thought of being with my mistress simply because his mother had ordered him to be. So the Architect vanished, he broke off the engagement and threw my mistress out of the Gardens."

He drew back and turned to busy himself with the instruments on the table behind them. Clara blinked several times as she absorbed with news.

"Fuck." she said faintly. "What a prat."

"Yes I concur." said Dusk, still with his back to Clara. "I'll never forget the day I found Lady Saturday sitting on the Improbable Stair after he ejected her. Her expression haunts me to this day."

Clara gazed at him solemnly. She never thought she'd find herself feeling sorry for Saturday but it was no wonder she was so fucked up. Sunday had a lot to answer for.

"And, in ten thousand years, she never found anyone else?" Clara asked once the silence had stretched into an uncomfortably long time.

"A little hard to find someone else when you're still obsessed with your last lover." Dusk shrugged. "The Tower has the dual purpose of invading the Gardens and exacting revenge on their ruler."

"There's nothing worse than unreciprocated love." said Clara, an edge of bitterness to her voice. Dusk finally turned back to her. His expression was neutral.

"Oh Saturday doesn't love him." he corrected briskly. "She's just infatuated. Denizens cannot feel true love, in fact it's widely believed that it doesn't exist at all."

"What?" Clara laughed. "That's ridiculous! Of course it exists."

"As I said it's a rather contested point among those of us at the university who study mortals."

Clara shook her head in wonder and noticed Dusk looking at her again.

"Do you have any pressing appointments to hurry back to the Middle House for?" he asked suddenly.

"No." she said in surprise.

"In that case, would you like to have dinner with me?"


	11. Chapter 11

"So, how was your trip to the Upper House yesterday? Anything interesting happen?" Friday asked casually.

Her young ward glanced up from her observation of the chess board and Friday swore she saw a faint pink flush creep up her cheeks.

"No." Clara said, a little too casually. Friday frowned.

"I hope you're not still in shock from walking in on me and Dusk." she said, smiling as Clara's elbow slipped off the table and she scrambled to right herself.

"Uh, no, no I wasn't shocked, just a bit surprised." she said in a voice that was definitely an octave higher than usual. "I'm really sorry I interrupted you."

"It is forgotten. Like I said we were finished."

Clara nodded and considered her next move. After a lengthy silence she glanced up at Friday cautiously.

"Does – um, I hope you don't mind me asking, but is Noon cool with you seeing his brother at the same time as you're seeing him?"

"Seeing?" Friday chuckled. "Oh aren't you sweet. I'm not seeing either of them, ours is a purely recreational relationship."

A curious expression crossed the human's face and her body language told Friday everything she needed to know. She sighed heavily as she captured one of Clara's pawns.

"Ah, I sense an air of disapproval."

"No." said Clara quickly. "It's just, a bit, strange. But it's none of my business really. Ha!"

"Oh you little tinker!" Friday cried in mock outrage as Clara took the knight she had just used to capture the pawn.

It had been a trick. Clara smiled smugly but then it faced from her lips as she closed her hand around another of her pawns.

"The House is basically one giant chess board isn't?" she asked musingly, gazing at the small white marble piece.

"How so?" Friday asked curiously.

"We're all just pieces in someone else's game aren't we? I'm, like, a pawn or something, the really crappy piece that's always getting sacrificed. And Saturday's the Queen, very powerful, very dangerous, but if she's smart doesn't start making moves until the game is well under way."

"How interesting. What about the king?"

"Sunday of course! Technically the most important piece on the board but basically useless and doesn't make any moves until the very end, and only then to save his own skin."

Friday chuckled at that and tapped her left hand knight.

"Who's this then?"

"Thursday, always in the thick of the action but in the end, expendable. Like the pawns."

"Dear me, very brooding today aren't we? Was Saturday's Dusk rude to you yesterday or something?"

To Friday's surprise, Clara bit her lip and ducked her head as though she was trying not to smile.

"No he was…fine." she said evasively.

Before Friday could demand an explanation her Noon came into the parlour with the morning post. Well, it was supposed to be the morning post, but seeing as the Post Office in the Lower House was a shambles it was now well past three in the afternoon.

"Message from Grim Tuesday milady." he said, handing her a buff envelope with a red and gold seal on the front.

Friday murmured a thank you and was unsurprised to see Clara glare at Noon in loathing. He returned the expression of hate as he turned to leave. The letter was a reminder for Friday to go and pick up the latest shipment of goods she'd ordered from Earth. Tuesday had knack for acquiring certain ah…items, from the Realms, items that would be frowned upon by those Upper House prudes. As such, this meant Friday usually went to get them in person from the Grim. Friday glanced over the top of the letter at Clara who was still giving the closed door a kind of death wish look.

"Clara darling, have you been to the Far Reaches yet?" she asked and the human's attention was brought back to her.

"Not yet, for some reason the lifts won't take me down there. I can't get past the Lower House."

"Then this should be an education for you, we'll take the Fifth Key. The normal elevators don' run down there, too much Nothing, and I do loath the train. Come come."

She clicked her fingers at Clara as she stood. She could not fail to catch the disgusted look Clara gave her for doing this but she ignored it. The human took her outstretched hand and Friday savoured the warm skin. She was aware that human skin was hypersensitive compared to denizen's and she briefly wondered if her own hand felt strange and alien to Clara, cold rather than warm. Dismissing these meaningless musings, she lifted the fifth Key and visualised the reflective surface of the Grim's scarlet steam train. An image of Up Station appeared in the mirror and a flash of light later they had been transported there. Clara stumbled upon landing and dropped Friday's hand.

"Woah that was weird." she gasped, rubbing her temple.

She tried to take a breath, but immediately choked on the foul Nothing laced air of the Far Reaches. Her hands flew to her throat as her poor lung struggle and wheezed. Before she could go into a full blown panic, Friday caught hold of her and put her hand over her mouth and nose.

"There you go, calm yourself, hush." she cooed. "Just take a normal breath."

Clara sucked in air and after a few moments stopped twitching in Friday's grip. Friday removed her hand and watched as Clara took cautious shallow breaths, then deep gulping ones.

"What the hell was that!?" the girl demanded, waving away the smoke from around her face.

"The air here is inimical to mortals. Don't worry I ensorcelled your lungs to extract what little oxygen is here. We should make haste though, I doubt it will last long." Friday explained.

She set off at a brisk walk across the platform towards the archway that led out of the station. Clara trotted along in her wake, blinking rapidly in the smog.

"Won't that add to the magic in my blood?" she asked anxiously. Friday shrugged.

"Only a little, it will hardly register compared to the contamination already in your body. Ah there's the dear Grim now."

Friday nodded towards a group of people who had just emerged from a brick built factory across the cobbled high street. Unlike touch, a superior denizen's sense of sight far outstripped a human's. Friday remembered that even before the breaking of the Will the Far Reaches had been a gloomy domain. The ceiling had never worked properly and now that it was clogged with sooth and Nothing it gave off no light what so ever. Now the whole of the Far Reaches was lit by grimy street lamps that did little to penetrate the fog. But Tuesday happened to be standing directly beneath one of them and Friday could just about make out his wiry form.

He was talking to a couple of his Grotesques in a low voice despite the near deafening clanging of metal coming from the open factory door. His eyes narrowed as Friday approached and a smile curled his thin lips.

"Lady Friday, I see you got my message."

"I did indeed and you know how I like to be prompt." she said.

Tuesday nodded but then he caught sight of Clara peering around Friday like a curious puppy. The smile slid from his face at once.

"Oh. I see you brought your pet." he said coldly. Friday sensed Clara bristle indignantly beside her and she smiled faintly.

"I don't like to leave her alone. Now, shall we be off?"

"I'm keeping your order in the Pyramid." he said, still glaring at Clara. "_That_ can stay here, I don't want a human soiling the place up."

Clara couldn't bit back a hiss of outrage at this and looked appealingly at Friday. Friday couldn't care less about this insult but she never lost an opportunity to annoy any of her fellow Trustees.

"Clara's breathing spell won't last very long in the open. She'll have to come with us."

Tuesday grimaced in distaste.

"Fine!" he snapped furiously. "Bring it if you must! Just keep it away from me."

Tuesday turned his back on the pair of them and marched off down the street. He didn't see Clara stick her tongue out at him, but Friday did. She stifled a laugh and beckoned for Clara to follow them. The Pyramid came into view after five minutes of walking and Friday fell into step with Clara so she could lean down and whisper,

"Quite impressive isn't it?"

"It would be." Clara said, not bothering to keep her voice down. "If it wasn't a total rip off of the Louvre."

Tuesday spared a furious backward glance and Clara smirked. _A point to the human I think_, Friday thought in amusement. Once they were inside the Treasure Tower Friday waved Clara away.

"Run along sweetheart, go and play or something. I'll come and get you when it's time to leave."

"Touch anything and you're dead mortal." Tuesday snarled.

Clara made a disgusted noise and turned her back firmly on the pair of them, stalking off into another room. Tuesday wrinkled his nose and turned back to Friday.

"Cheeky little mare." he snorted.

"Oh pish, she's just high spirited." said Friday dismissively. "Anyway never mind about her. Shall we?"

Tuesday showed her to a room on one of the higher levels of the Tower. It was clearly one of his own private apartments because it was filled with some of the more expensive and comfortable Queen Anne furniture he owned. A plain wooden chest sat waiting on the mahogany side table beside the sofa.

"Here are your, ah, _toys_." Tuesday said with a smirk, patting the box. "Don't worry, I was digression itself."

"Much obliged." said Friday sweetly, pointing the fifth Key at the chest.

It vanished to her bedroom back in the Scriptorium. Now she considered Tuesday thoughtfully and stepped up to him.

"You know, I have some spare time on my hands." she said lightly. Tuesday gazed at her, his expression stoic.

"What about your mongrel?" he asked. Friday assumed he was referring to Clara and she shook her head.

"She can wait." she murmured, putting her hand on Tuesday's tones arm. The Grim narrowed his eyes.

"How would it be if I refused?" he asked carefully. Friday chuckled quietly.

"You wouldn't dare." she purred.

"I might." Tuesday persisted. "You know I don't share and from what I hear, I have to share you with legions of men."

"They're not all men." Friday corrected him in a sing song voice. Tuesday smiled in spite of himself. She moved closer still and breathed in his ear,

"Go one then, _refuse_ me."

"Maybe next time." Tuesday conceded, his resolve failing him. Friday smirked.

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Some twenty minutes later the two Trustees descended to the lower level, adjusting their clothes as they went. Friday had barely stepped off the stair case when Clara came storming in. She looked livid.

"You _thief_!" she hissed at Tuesday who was too taken aback to respond. "You sneaking – thieving – stealing —"

She seemed to struggle to think of an insult worthy of Tuesday crime. Apparently words failed to convey her anger so she merely snarled at Tuesday, her glare deadly enough to burn a hole in his head. She pointed furiously behind her towards the room she'd been exploring.

"Where did you get that Egyptian vase in there? The Eighteenth Dynasty one?" she demanded.

Tuesday pulled himself up to his full, and considerable, height.

"I _acquired_ it." he said snootily. It was almost amusing how Clara's eyes popped in rage.

"You _stole _it!" she cried. "I know you did! I recognise it, it went missing from the Cairo museum during the riots last year. And you had it the whole time you ba —"

"Clara, be very careful how you speak to a Trustee." said Friday sternly. Clara glanced at her in desperation.

"But Friday!" she whined. "He _stole_ it! I bet he stole everything in here!"

"I don't care, apologise to the Grim at once young lady."

Friday watched as Clara struggled with herself. She was beside herself with fury but she didn't want to annoy her host. Finally, injecting as much venom as she could into the word, she said,

"_Sorry_."

"Good." said Friday briskly. "Now, come along, we should get going."

She walked off towards the exit but once she was through the door she paused, realising Clara was not following her. Peering around the door she saw Clara glaring at Tuesday still.

"Listen mate, you better watch yourself from now. I'm not going to let you get away with this!"

"Oh really, well now I'm terrified." said Tuesday, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He smirked at the human whose whole face was beetroot red.

"Seriously don't push me!" she snarled. "I'm an archaeologist! Well, close enough."

With one last look of contempt, she stalked off towards Friday.

"Yeah yeah I'm coming." she snapped before Friday could say anything.

The Mistress of the Middle House considered whether or not she should be angry. In the end she settled on amused instead. She would enjoy experiencing Clara's fury from this memory when the time came.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ok so I'm taking some liberties with the canon here, cause House history doesn't quite conform to how I want the story to pan out. Warning : 'mild peril and uncomfortable scenes', nothing too drastic**

Clara had arrived in the house midway through autumn, and as she entered her twelfth week of imprisonment, the weather suddenly turned cold. Unlike Earth, the seasons in the House did not change gradually, at least not in the domains where the weather worked properly. On Top Shelf the trees that lined the paths in the Scriptorium garden dropped their golden leaves overnight. In the Upper House however, the rain was exactly the same as it had been during all of Clara's previous visits.

"Doesn't it ever stop raining?" she asked exasperatedly as Saturday's Dusk opened his umbrella.

They were leaving the restaurant where they had been having dinner every Saturday for the past seven weeks. It was a quaint little red brick building with ivy growing up the side and candles on the tables. They shed a soft glow over the clientele in the gathering twilight.

"Nope." said Dusk, offering his arm to Clara. She took it eagerly. "I wish it would, my mistress loathes the rain. But unfortunately Lord Sunday has control of our weather and has been making it rain for ten thousand years."

"Again, what a prat." Clara sighed. "Who knew the rulers of the universe could be so petty."

Dusk laughed and said,

"Well, quite."

Clara smiled up at him. She could no longer deny she had major crush on him. Their 'dates' gave them time to talk casually and she enjoyed them immensely. She always looked forward to the weekends now. Deep down she knew it was stupid to get her hopes up. Quite apart from the fact that he wasn't even the same species as her, Dusk worked for Saturday. It seemed unwise to form an attachment with one's jailer. But Clara wasn't too worried. Her past experiences with boys, or rather, her lack of experiences, made her quite confident that her crush was definitely one sided.

She was no stranger to the dreaded 'friend zone' and she was fairly certain that was all Dusk had on his mind. Still, that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to enjoy his company, or the tantalizing feel of his arm looped through hers. He was escorting her back to the Court of Days as was their routine but upon arrival they got quite a shock. Dusk pushed open the door to find Saturday, Friday and Tuesday standing in the Hall muttering furiously amongst themselves, Saturday's Noon and Pravuil standing by.

Saturday looked over at them and Dusk dropped Clara's arm like it had electrocuted him.

"Where have you been?" Saturday snapped. "I sent you a summons an hour ago!"

"I have just been at the university milady." said Dusk, smoothly taking a subtle step away from Clara so as to increase the distance between them. "Taking care of Miss Jenkins' blood cleaning. Is there a problem?"

Before Saturday could answer a loud yet musical voice floated in from the meeting room.

"Jenkins? Could that possibly be the mysterious Clara Jenkins I've been hearing so much about?"

Saturday closed her eyes as if she was praying for patience and turned to face the young man who had just waltzed into the hall. He was tall, though not ridiculously so like the Days or their Times, and had dark hair. He was handsome of course and there was something cheeky about the curve of his mouth as he smiled. What surprised Clara was his attire. Instead of the usual Victorian get up that was so popular in the House, this man could easily have just stepped off the streets of Clara's London. His jeans and casual open neck shirt looked positively odd next to the Trustees immaculate dresses and waistcoats.

The man completely ignored the Days and marched right up to Clara, talking as he went.

"The Piper, third son of the Architect, at your service, you'll have to excuse the clothes I just got in."

"Uh, that's, oh!" Clara exclaimed in surprise as he swooped to kiss her on both cheeks in the French fashion.

He withdrew his head and smiled crookedly at her.

"So, you must be the infamous Clara." he said "You know I was just in your neck of the woods, well, Earth, twenty first century anyway. Things are hectic out there aren't they?"

"Ur…" Clara said spectacularly.

Fortunately Friday took charge of the situation and stalked over to them. She yanked Clara away from the Piper and towards the other Trustees, gripping her shoulder tightly.

"Clara doesn't need to hear your babbling." she said coldly. "And neither do we for that matter."

"Oh my dear Friday, how you hurt me so." Piper said, pouting comically. "Is this the kind of welcome you give an old chum?"

Friday snorted at his choice of word. Saturday had her glare turned up to the max.

"What are you doing in my domain?!" she hissed.

Clara could see she was just itching to take her key and blast the Piper to bits where he stood. The third son of the Architect didn't seem fazed at all.

"As I have already explained sweetheart, I got bored of traversing the Realms and thought it'd be a hoot to drop in on my old friends the Trustees."

"It's Superior Saturday to you, you presumptuous little maggot!" Saturday snarled. Piper smiled sarcastically at her and Dusk coughed quietly.

"Shall I remove him milady?" he asked lightly, gripping his brolly threateningly. Piper wagged a finger at them all maddeningly.

"Ah ah ah, now aren't we forgetting one teensy weensy little detail?" he sang.

Saturday looked like she'd just drank the milk from the carton at the back of Clara's fridge back at the flat. You know, the one Helen's boyfriend left there last time he stayed and now has mysterious life forms growing on the cap.

"And what is that?" she spat.

"That my Mother gave me permission to go wherever the Void I please in the House or the Realms? I know you lot don't really have any qualms about besmirching Her memory, but I doubt it would be wise for you to annoy a _certain someone_. I am his brother after all."

He pointed towards the ceiling and Saturday's gaze flicked up briefly. _Oh burn_, Clara thought with a grudging admiration for the Piper's gall. It was quite funny to watch the war raging on Saturday's face. It was clear for all to see that her loathing of the Piper was battling fiercely against her quiet fear of Lord Sunday's displeasure. I knew enough about the Keys to guess that if it ever came down to a fight between her and her immediate superior, the outcome would be a no brainer. Finally Saturday lost her patience.

"Just get out of the Upper House!" she snarled. "Go and bother your precious brother instead!"

"Oh I intend to, but I just had to catch a glimpse of your special guest."

Piper winked at Clara whose eyes widened in surprise. Friday made a disgusted noise and dragged Clara towards the lift bound for the Middle House.

"Go home Clara." she ordered bad-temperedly, shoving her into the compartment. "I'll be back as soon as we've dealt with this nag."

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Friday didn't return for hours. Clara was too curious to go to bed so instead she got changed into her pyjamas and sat curled up in front of the fire in Friday's sitting room, trying and failing to read a book whilst yawing hugely. Finally, at ten to four in the morning, the strange harp-like strum that announced the arrival of the fifth Key woke Clara from her stupor. She jerked a little and got quickly to her knees, twisting around to lean against the back of the chair.

"So how did it go?" she asked eagerly. Friday looked exhausted and annoyed as she undid the clasp of her cloak and let it fall carelessly to the floor.

"I might have known you were still awake." she yawned. "It went terribly."

She slumped into the sister arm chair and closed her eyes tiredly. She looked a lot less ladylike than she usually did. Clara watched this cautiously. She knew that look all too well, her mother, who was a teacher, wore that look after a particularly hard day in school. By now Clara and her sisters had learnt to be cautious of that look.

"So you couldn't kick him out then?" she asked tentatively.

"No." Friday sighed heavily. "The little bastard, if you'll pardon the French, really does have a patent of authority from the Architect, so there's nothing we can do. Saturday's this close to throwing him head first into the Void."

"Why does she hate him so much? She wasn't engaged to him too was she?" Clara asked with a smirk.

The second the words left her mouth she kicked herself. Friday's eyes snapped open and all trace of sleepiness was gone.

"How did you know about that?" she asked sharply. Clara cast about desperately for some explanation that wouldn't land Dusk in hot water.

"Uh, the Will told me." she invented. Friday didn't look fooled for a second.

"No it didn't." she snapped. "Lying is a naughty habit Clara, stop it at once. Saturday's Dusk told you, didn't he?"

"Yes." Clara mumbled guiltily. "But we were just gossiping! I'm sorry, that was a really stupid thing to say."

Friday shook her head in exasperation. However she didn't look angry so Clara relaxed a little.

"Dear Dusk, he always was a bad gossip. Don't let Saturday catch you saying things like that." she chuckled and Clara grimaced.

"Trust me I won't. So anywho, why doesn't she like the Piper?"

"Oh she never like any of the Architect's children on principle. And the Piper is particularly irritating. He's a useless little prick who spends most of his time breezing in an out of the House as he pleases and lounging around the Realms. Then of course there are his little side projects."

"What side projects?" Clara asked and Friday rolled her eyes.

"The children." she explained tiredly. "And the Rats. He kept bringing them to the House, to 'spice the place up' as he put it, though really I think he did it mostly to annoy his brother and Saturday. He only stopped because Sunday put his foot down."

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed for four o clock and Friday glanced at it wearily.

"You should be in bed young lady it's far too late." she said sternly.

"My mates and me stay out way later than this!" Clara protested, though she still got to her feet and put her book to one side.

She was exhausted and she'd been planning to make a trip to the Border Sea today. As she meandered to the door Friday called after her casually,

"Saturday's Dusk seems very friendly, is there something I should know about happening between you two?"

Clara paused and glanced back anxiously.

"No!" she said quickly. "He's just being nice."

Friday's smile was a little too understanding for Clara's liking so she hurried off to bed. For the next few days Clara avoided mentioning Dusk whenever Friday was around, which wasn't very much. Between Clara's casual trips to other domains and Friday's mysterious disappearing acts, they hardly saw one another that week. Clara had noticed some time ago that Friday vanished for hours on end sometimes. She assumed she was off visiting some lover or other because she always came back with her cheeks rosy and in a very odd mood.

Late on Friday evening, Clara was once again wrapped up in a book in the sitting room. Dusk was sitting at the writing desk doing some paper work but Clara was ignoring him, and he her. Though their dislike for each other was just as strong as ever, they did not engage in petty domestic warfare like she and Noon did. The only sounds were the ticking of the carriage clock, the scratching of Dusk's quill, and the occasional faint rustle as Clara turned a page of her book. She was only pretending to read however. Her mind was wondering idly what Saturday's Dusk had planned for them that week-end. He'd mentioned something about taking her to see the sights, though since the Upper House was shrouded in perpetual misty rain it was hard to imagine what there was to see.

A loud clatter from the hall startled both Clara and Dusk who looked up sharply from his work, frowning. It sounded like someone had knocked over the umbrella stand by the door and was now giggling over the fact. The door to the sitting room was thrown open and Friday sauntering in. Well, perhaps sauntered implied too much grace to her movement, staggered was a better term. Clara raised an eyebrow and stared at her host in bewilderment.

"Dusk! Clara! Oh good I was hoping to find you two darlings!" Friday said at twice the necessary volume considering the people she was talking to were barely ten feet from her.

There was something weird about her eyes, they were wide and blood-shot, and her smile was bordering on psychotic. Her clothes were a little dishevelled and the fifth Key, which was in her hand rather than in the holster at her belt, was pulsating with an eerie blue light. Clara turned to look at Dusk questioningly. He was gazing at his mistress with no trace of surprise. He looked a little resigned, and gave a tiny sigh as he put down his quill.

"Did you have a profitable journey to the Retreat milady?" he asked. "I thought I was to accompany you this time."

"I had a great time thanks and I took your big bro instead, soz." Friday giggled.

Clara was utterly confused by now. Friday was speaking very bizarrely, she didn't sound like herself at all.

"Um, are you ok?" she asked slowly, getting to her feet and dithering, unsure what to do.

Friday smiled even wider and flopped down on the sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm tip top thank you for asking sweetheart. Now Dusk you handsome devil, I want you upstairs in the bedroom this very second. I'll be there in a minute."

Clara felt herself blush at this and watched Dusk as he eagerly scuttled from the room.

"Ok, are you drunk or, or high or something? Cause you're acting weird." she said to Friday. Her host just laughed breezily and got up again.

"Oh sweetie." she fluttered, crossing over to Clara and pinching her cheek playfully. "Such a sensitive little flower aren't you? I thought humans in your era were quite open about sex."

"We are." said Clara awkwardly. "At least, most of us are. But that's not the point! The point is you're being really –"

"Are you a virgin?" Friday interrupted her bluntly. Clara stared at her.

"_What_?!" she cried. "What kind of question is that?! Where did that come from?"

"I'm just curious darling." Friday shrugged. Clara shook her head as she tried to think of a way to bring sanity back to the conversation.

"Well, not that it's any of your business, yes, I am."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?! I just never got round to it ok? I mean, I nearly did, kind of, but it didn't happen, he didn't want…"

Clara cut herself off and frowned in annoyance. She hadn't meant to say that last part. Friday pounced on it at once.

"He didn't want what?" she asked, a mildly frightening glint in her eye.

"He didn't – want…me." Clara said in a small voice. "Me and my friends from school were on our sixth form holiday, in Malia, and I got very drunk and thought some guy liked me and wanted to…but he didn't. He wanted my mate Kelly instead."

Clara grimaced at the humiliating memory and then smiled humorously at Friday.

"Pathetic right?"

"A little." Friday conceded. "Although…you know there are certain things you can do to avoid a situation like that."

"Like what?" Clara asked suspiciously.

She did not like the sly look Friday was giving her, or the way Friday had closed the gap between them until she was definitely encroaching on Clara's personal space.

"Men are quite easy to manipulate when you know how, I could teach you if you like." she said softly. Clara took a decisive step back but Friday only moved forward again.

"No thank you." Clara said coldly.

"Oh come now don't be shy, it would be easy! And you know Dusk is waiting just upstairs, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you used him for practise."

"Friday stop it! This isn't funny!"

"What's the matter? Afraid?" Friday asked in a mocking voice. "Maybe it's the lack of experience. Don't worry, I can take care of that right now if you like."

To Clara's horror she reached out as if to grab her and she had to move very quickly out of the way.

"Friday, I'm flattered, really!" she said nervously, backing away with her hands raised in front of her. "But I'm not exactly that way inclined, sorry. I'm pretty sure I prefer men."

"How do you know if you've never tried either?" asked Friday dismissively.

Just as Clara was forming a firm 'no' in her head, Friday's hand shot out and closed around her wrist. Clara panicked and wrenched her arm free.

"Get off me!" she shouted furiously.

Friday made another grab for her so she slapped her across the face. Clara had no illusions about her own strength so it couldn't possibly have hurt, but Friday still gasped. She remained frozen for a moment as Clara stepped smartly out of her reach again, breathing hard. Friday seemed to regain her composure fairly quickly because her expression became cool and collected.

"Well, that's that then." she said stonily.

"Friday I'm sorry." Clara breathed.

"No I understand. You'd better get to bed. You don't want to be worn out for your appointment with Saturday's Dusk do you?"


	13. Chapter 13

If Lady Friday was embarrassed by Clara's rejection, she did not show it over the next few days. She continued to act as she had before, with patronising kindness. Her bloodshot eyes had returned to their normal pretty brown by the following morning and the Fifth Key was no longer acting strangely. For her part, Clara avoided her host and spent as much time as possible out of the Scriptorium despite the fact that the weather had turned bitterly cold. She'd been desperate to tell Saturday's Dusk about the incident but she was most disappointed when, on her visit the next day, she was met by Pravuil rather than him.

"Where's Dusk?" she asked sharply, casting her gaze around the Court of Days as if he might pop out of one of the doors.

Pravuil looked very bad tempered at having to fetch her and scowled.

"He's busy." he said sniffily. "Our mistress has sent him on a mission. _Top secret_ apparently."

Clara took that to mean that Pravuil did not know the exact nature of this secret and was thoroughly pissed off about it. Dusk's absence put Clara in an even worse mood than she had been in the first place. The week dragged on and she had nothing to do but wonder aimlessly around the Upper Sky Lock or the docks in Port Wednesday. There was frost on the ground most mornings now and the spray whipped up from the Border Sea was cold enough to flay the flesh from her bones if she stood there too long.

She would probably have fallen into deep depression if not for the arrival of Christmas. Clara was somewhat surprised the Trustees engaged in such frivolous activities but according to Friday's Dusk, it had been a favourite festival of the Architect.

"Anyway it's down in the rule book that we have to attend this ghastly Christmas Ball every year." he explained to her over afternoon tea one day. "It's on a rota, and this year the Lower House has to host it so you can guarantee something will go wrong."

"A ball?" Clara said dubiously. "So, what, I have to get a dress or something?"

"You have your allowance don't you?" he snapped irritably. "Just go and pick something from the market!"

"What kind of thing should I get?"

"How the Void should I know?! I'm a man for Architect's sake!"

So, armed with absolutely no information whatsoever, Clara made the trip to Port Wednesday. It was busier than usual because of all the Christmas shoppers. It wasn't easy to move through the crowd because even when shopping there was something of a pecking order. Those with the highest precedence stalked around with their noses in the air, their faithful toadies following in their wake. When two such groups met there was always a scuffle as they both jockeyed for position.

Clara stayed well clear of such arguments and managed to find a dress without incident. At least until she'd actually bought it. She was just accepting her change from the stall owner when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, and found herself nose to chest with the Piper. She took an instinctive step backward only to bump into the table behind her.

"Miss Jenkins! How delightful, I was hoping to run into you here." he said, tipping her an enormous wink.

"Hello, Piper." she said unenthusiastically. The stall owner poked her in the small of the back and said angrily,

"Oi! You're blocking my merchandise mate!"

"So bossy these denizens." Piper sighed, taking Clara's arm in his and steering her away. "This is precisely why I spend most of my time out in the Realms."

Clara tugged her arm out of his grip and tried not to scowl. Why was everyone she met in this damn House a freaking psycho?!

"What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to the Incomparable Gardens?" she asked coldly.

They were out of the crowd now and standing by the chain-link railings that ran along the wharf. As always the ice cold spray blew into Clara's numb face and whipped her hair back. Piper laughed, a curiously melodious sound that caught Clara off guard.

"My big brother and I don't exactly see eye to eye Miss Jenkins." he explained, smiling his crooked half smile once more.

Rather than melting her, the Piper's good looks only put Clara on her guard. He reminded her of the boys she'd grown up with before she moved to London. The ones who thought they could get a girl to do anything they wanted just by smiling at her. Clara was weary of people like that because they never smiled at her, they just bullied.

"But you told Saturday he'd back you up if she did anything to you." she accused and the Piper shrugged.

"A little white lie here and there never hurt anyone." he said innocently and Clara snorted. Piper was eyeing the bag in her hand curiously.

"So you're going to this Ball in the Lower House I hope." he said and she nodded.

"Yeah Friday says I have –" Clara began but she broke off and narrowed her eyes sharply. "Why do you hope?" she asked suspiciously. Piper smirked.

"I just do." he replied. "Well, it was a pleasure to see you again Clara Jenkins, I suppose I'll be seeing you soon. Good day to you."

He sauntered off through the crowd and before he disappeared Clara saw a couple of Raised Rats appear by his side. She scowled. She was not in the mood to be toyed with, not by Friday and certainly not by little shits like the Piper. She wasn't even sure why she didn't trust him and that annoyed her further.

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It was snowing outside Clara's bedroom window. She sat on the sill watching the crowds go by on the Atrium's Embassy Square, pointlessly wrapped up against the bitter cold. Pointless, because denizens did not feel the cold. She had arrived in the Lower House late the previous evening and the two hour long elevator ride with Friday had been awkward as hell. The Middle Embassy, like all the others, was a white marble fronted terrace building, wedged between the Border Embassy and the Upper Embassy.

Clara's room was on the third floor and offered her a good view of the ground below. A carriage had just pulled up outside the house and a moment later the doorbell rang.

"Clara darling! It's time to go, come down please." Friday called up the stairs.

Clara closed her eyes briefly and sighed before standing. The skirts of her blue silk ball gown fell to the floor and whispered over the carpet as she crossed to the door. Her stubborn hair had posed quite a challenge to Friday's stylist and after an hour of fruitless battle he had simply thrown it up into a bun. Clara had felt quite pretty for a change but as she descended the stairs and caught sight of Friday that notion vanished completely. Friday looked gorgeous in deep crimson with a shining diamond necklace resting on her breast. She was peering into the hall mirror, applying bloody lipstick to her lips.

"Come now we don't want to keep them waiting." she said when she caught sight of Clara.

"Whatever happened to being fashionably late?" Clara asked sourly, tugging at the dress self-consciously.

Friday ignored this and chivvied Clara out the front door and down the steps. It was absolutely freezing so they didn't dither, instead climbing into the back of the carriage promptly.

"Don't look so worried sweetheart." Friday soothed, patting Clara's hand as the rode through the Atrium as fast as the traffic allowed.

"I'm not worried." Clara lied.

The truth was she was terrified. This was the first time she would be in the same room as most of the Trustees for any length of time. She only hoped there would be a lot of people there so she could hide in the crowd. She was also feeling incredibly ugly now that she was sitting beside Friday. There had better be alcohol at this thing.

"Such a shame Noon couldn't come." Friday sighed.

Dusk, who was sitting opposite them, didn't look too devastated by the absence of his brother.

"My brother is devoted to his work, milady." he said smoothly.

"Ah well, never mind. There will be plenty of other handsome gentlemen around tonight." Friday said. She nudged Clara playfully. "I'm sure Saturday's Dusk will be eager to see you Clara."

"No he won't, I told you he doesn't even like me much." Clara protested, though she felt her cheeks flush and the mention of him.

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As Clara could have guessed, she was bored in five minutes flat. The ball room was huge and glittering, with six crystal chandeliers hanging from the gilded roof. There were hundreds of denizens milling around, all dressed in their finest clothes. The Trustees were easy to spot, firstly because they were so damn tall, and secondly because the commanded the attention of the whole room. Saturday had a whole crowd of people gathered around her whilst she talked business. Friday too soon gathered a group of admirers who quickly shoved Clara out of the picture.

She wandered around looking for someone to talk to. It was difficult to mingle when she was by far the shortest person in the room. White jacketed waiters were revolving around the room baring trays of champagne which Clara didn't like. Instead, she headed for the bar and sat herself down on one of the stools, fully intending to spend the whole evening here. She ordered a cocktail and sat there sipping it morosely. She wished she had Friday's ability to charm people, or Saturday's to command their respect and awe.

Tuesday and Thursday were standing not far from her puffing on cigars and discussing finances. Well, Tuesday was, Thursday was just looking boredly over at Friday. Monday, ever the attentive host, was asleep on the leather sofa behind them with a cigar dangling from his lips whilst he snored. Clara cast a disdainful look over at them. She hated smoking, and she particularly hated it indoors. Tuesday caught sight of her and smirked, flashing his golden wrist watch at her. No doubt he'd stolen it from some Realm or other and Clara gritted her teeth.

_No confrontation, get a grip girl_, she thought sternly as she made to get up. She settled back on the stool and turned her head resolutely away from the obnoxious sight of Grim Tuesday. As the evening wore on and Clara downed two more drinks in quick succession, she started to feel a little light headed. But this was the good, fuzzy stage of drunkenness so when Clara spotted the one person she'd been hoping to see, she didn't hesitate to go and talk to him. Saturday's Dusk was standing beside his mistress with his hands behind his back in a stiff posture of loyal boredom. Clara sidled up to him and whispered,

"Pst! Dusk!"

He started and looked down at her. A flash of some strange emotion passed through his eyes but it was gone too quickly for Clara to register it.

"Oh, good evening Miss Jenkins." he said in a muted voice.

He glanced at Saturday as if to check she wasn't watching. He was in luck, she was still boring everyone to tears about some shake up she had planned in one the university departments. Clara grinned at Dusk.

"You look like you need rescuing." she chuckled. "Hey where were you last week? I had to spend the evening with your creepy brother-in-office instead!"

"I had pressing engagements to attend to." Dusk muttered, angling his body in such a way that Clara was hidden from Saturday's view.

This was rather puzzling to Clara because with the exception of Tuesday, none of the Trustees had paid her the slightest bit of attention the whole evening, so she couldn't understand why Dusk was concerned. However it seemed he had good reason to be cautious because a split second later Friday swooped down on the pair of them.

"Dusk darling! We were hoping to bump into you here, weren't we Clara?" she said, loud enough to draw the attention of every denizen within ten feet of them.

Dusk actually winced as Saturday turned to join the conversation.

"Good evening Lady Friday." she said stiffly. "I see you were late as usual."

"Evening Saturday." Friday said briefly, her gaze flickering to Saturday but then switching back to Dusk quickly. "Now Dusk, you know you disappointed my young friend here last week-end. She does so enjoy her little visits, don't you Clara sweetie?"

"Uh…" Clara said brilliantly, flushing as everyone looked down at her.

She felt how Dusk looked, as though she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. He wasn't much better at hiding his embarrassment but Saturday jumped in before either of them could think of something to say.

"Dusk was completing some important work on my behalf, I judged it a better use of his time than baby-sitting the human." she snapped, glaring at Friday pointedly. Friday simply smiled benignly at her superior.

"Well of course, Dusk is invaluable to you dear. But since he let Clara down last Saturday, I think it's only fair if he makes it up to her now, don't you? Surely he can take time out of his busy schedule to dance with my lovely young friend here."

Both Clara and Dusk blushed identical shaded of beetroot red.

"Oh no I don't think that'll be necessary." Clara said as Dusk looked appealingly at his mistress.

"Milady…" he began in a tone that bordered on a whine.

Friday frowned sternly at him and pushed Clara towards him a little.

"Now now Dusk, I thought you were a gentleman! Surely you're not going to refuse this young lady such a reasonable request?"

Whilst Dusk fidgeted Clara glared over her shoulder at Friday and hissed,

"_Friday_! I can't dance!"

But there was no way out of the situation. Friday pushed the pair of them on the dance floor and stepped back to watch, smirking. Clara scowled and Dusk sighed resignedly before taking one of her hands in his, and putting the other on her waist.

"I wasn't lying, I don't know how to dance to this kind of music." Clara told him, though her scowl had dissipated the moment Dusk took her hand. He smiled tiredly.

"It's easy, just follow my lead." he muttered.

They swayed and Clara kept her eyes fixed on her feet, partly to stop herself from treading on his toes, and partly to avoid looking him in the eye.

"I'm going to kill Friday." she complained when they had danced in silence for some time. With their bodies so close together Clara actually felt Dusk snort.

"You may not have to." he said ruefully. "My mistress will do that for you."

Clara smiled and glanced over at the denizen in question. She was talking to her Noon, ignoring the dancers with an air of stubborn disapproval. Friday was once again flirting with every person in sight and seemed to have lost interest in them. Because she wasn't paying attention Clara stumbled and it was only Dusk's hands that held her upright.

"How many of those Sidecars have you had young lady?" he asked with a mock stern expression.

"Just two!" she lied. "Besides, it's an open bar! I'm a student I usually can't afford the nice stuff. I'm just mooching off the Days whilst I can."

"Well may I just say I think you're an expert." Dusk said dryly.

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Dusk had vanished the moment the song ended and it took Clara nearly an hour to track him down. She found him standing on the balcony through a pair of French windows, smoking a cigarette and gazing out at the Atrium.

"There you are." she sighed, trotting to join him at the balcony and shivering.

It was still snowing and already flakes were settling in her hair. She was quite tipsy by now and her vision was a tad unfocused. Dusk glanced briefly at her but didn't make any comment on her swaying. He merely took a long drag and blew out the smoke. Despite her hatred of the habit, Clara found there was something quite sensual about the way he did this and she watched him hungrily.

"So are you going to tell me what you were doing last weekend?" she asked eventually.

"I can't, it's a secret." he said unhelpfully. Clara grinned and leant on the cold marble of the balcony.

"Woo, mysterious." she chuckled. "Pravuil didn't sound too happy about it."

"He would have been if he knew what it was." Dusk muttered bitterly.

His hand was resting on the balcony beside Clara's and she gazed at it for a few moments, choosing her words with as much care as her alcohol soaked brain would allow.

"I hope this secret mission isn't going to keep you busy every weekend. I missed our dinner appointment."

Daringly, she put her hand on his. It twitched beneath her fingers but he didn't immediately snatch it away. She took this as a good sign and decided that now was the time to act. She leant in and stretched up to kiss him.

"Clara," Dusk said with a pained expression, pushing her away and stepping away from her. "Stop that."

Clara felt her heart sink like a stone to the region of her shoes.

"Oh." she said in a small voice. "Sorry, I thought…never mind."

Dusk was glancing between her and the party. He seemed to be steeling himself to do something because he took a fortifying breath then fixed his face into a sneer of contempt.

"What did you think? That I actually found you attractive? You're a human, Jenkins, and not a very pretty specimen of human at that. I'm afraid you're just a _smidge_ below my usual standards. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He flicked his cigarette but away and returned to the party, leaving Clara alone on the balcony, feeling like she was a twelve year old school girl again.

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"Rough night eh kiddo?" the Piper asked.

He'd been watching the human's humiliating yet predictable rejection from the shadows with a smirk playing on his perfect lips. This was simply delicious! He owed Saturday's Dusk for making this so easy for him. Clara started and twisted around to face him, angrily scrubbing away her tears as she did so.

"Don't call me that!" she sniffed. "I'm twenty for fuck's sake!

"I do apologise, but there's no need to bite my head off I'm only trying to help."

"I don't need your help. What the hell are you doing here anyway? Don't tell me Monday actually invited you."

"Afraid not, I'm gate crashing but to be quite frank I needn't have bothered. This party…oh what's the expression? Ah yes, _blows_."

The human gave a spluttering laugh in spite of herself and the Piper made a few quick calculations based on how much he guessed she'd had to drink. Not enough, by his standards. He jerked his head towards the ball room and said with a crooked smile,

"Come on, let's leg it. I know of a much better party going on just two blocks down."

"I don't think Friday would be very impressed if I ditched her." Clara said uncomfortably. The Piper waved a hand impatiently.

"Oh come on she's a big girl, I'm sure she can get laid without your help. Don't worry, if she asks just tell her you went home early."

It didn't take much more gentle pressuring to get Clara to agree. He led her out of the ball room (skirting around the edge of the crowd so as to avoid notice by the Days or any of their Times) and five minutes later he was knocking on a rusty metal door in the side of a dilapidated warehouse.

"Seriously? This place?" Clara asked him dubiously as she took in the boarded up windows and the glass scattered on the cobbles.

"Trust me, it gets better." Piper assured her.

The door was opened by a grubby child who couldn't have been more than twelve or so. She was typical Piper's kid, wearing a hodgepodge of oversized adult clothes including a purple waistcoat and a battered top hat.

"Oh it's you." she said unenthusiastically, peering up at the Piper.

She didn't look happy, but nor did she look _un_happy. She just looked bored.

"Good evening to you too Miss Blue." the Piper said sarcastically. "This is Clara, she's a human who's been living with a Trustee for the past three months."

"Cor blimy! No wonder she looks miserable! No worries mate, we've got just the cure. 'Op in then."

The girl grinned toothily at them and stepped aside to allow them inside. As they descended a set of rickety stairs down to the basement level the girl called over her shoulder,

"Drinks are 'alf price tonight Mister Piper, thanks for fixin' us up with that Rat contact of yourn. Oh I'm Suzy by the way, nice to meecha Clara!"

"Anything for my kids." Piper shrugged and Clara cast him a suspicious look over her shoulder.

The basement was little bigger than a wine cellar, with a brick walls and vaulted ceilings. There were fifty or so Piper's Children assembled, along with a few Raised Rats. They were talking, laughing, drinking, but most of all dancing. It pleased the Piper to see Clara pull up shot at hearing the music.

"Kesha?" she shouted quizzically over the racket. "How come they're playing modern stuff?"

"Oh I can't stand all this Dark Ages nonsense my brother insists we all follow. Your era is so much more enjoyable."

"Hang on, your brother?" Clara asked in confusion and Piper grimaced.

"Who do you think chosen the House fashions? Saturday? Now how about I buy you a drink."

It was so easy. The human was clearly taken being called ugly very badly because she downed several strong drinks. The Raised Rats had somehow got hold of endless supplied of Upper House vodka and all the Piper had to do was challenge her to a shot contest. It was probably lucky one couldn't throw up in the House.

"You know!" Clara cried, grabbing the half empty bottle and slopping the contents everywhere as she poured herself another shot. "Oops! Anyway, you know what? I don't know why I bothered with Dusk, he's an arrogant prick! And he was right! He's a denizen, as if he's going to look twice at me!"

"Oh now that's not fair, you look very beautiful tonight." the Piper protested and Clara gave a bark of derisive laughter.

"Ha! Thanks, you're so lying, but thanks."

"I'm not lying. Believe me I prefer natural beauty to denizen perfection any day."

"Yeah that perfection's a bitch." Clara snorted. Piper took the shot out of her hand as she raised it to her lips and put it to one side.

"That's enough of that I think." he chuckled. "Come and dance with me."

"Ok, as long as you don't mind getting upstaged by my mind-blowingly sexy moves."

"What about my mind-blowingly sexy moves?" Piper protested.

It took him exactly ten minutes of a tedious dancing and compliments to get her to throw herself at him.

"Ah Clara?" he said with feigned concern. "Are you sure you're not just doing this because you're angry at Dusk?"

"Of course that's why I'm doing it!" she cried, clawing her way up the front of his shirt as he legs trembled beneath her and threatened to give out. "That's not a problem is it?"

"No, not at all. But um, let's go back to my hotel, shall we?" he chuckled in her ear. All too easy.


End file.
